A Hero's Prologue
by La Caterina
Summary: The prologue to the BBC tv show. It describes the five years Robin fights in the Holy Land while Guy becomes re-established at Locksley. It is the story of how two tragic heroes become tragic. Rated M for Robin's violence and Guy's sexual prowess. R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Sadly, Robin Hood is not mine. No money being made here; this is just for fun. :)

Author's Note: Two tragic heroes and how they became tragic; my friend and I each decided to write a back story to the Robin Hood BBC series in order to explain how Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne are who they are in the show. We've split up the scenes for each by character. Scenes with Robin Hood are written by my friend and the scenes of Guy are by me.

The stories span over the five years Robin is fighting in the Holy Land, and Guy's story begins chronologically.

* * *

"Robin, don't," Marian giggled, pretending to get out of the circle of his arms. A few villagers next to them shuffled a way a little, but most smiled indulgently. Those that cared or watched knew that Marian and Robin had become a different kind of playmates of late.

"And why not?"

"Because," and she struggled further, then whispered in his ear, "People might think we have been sleeping together."

"But we have been sleeping together," he whispered back. He reached one hand down and pinched her butt. She smacked his hand away and grinned,

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh wouldn't I?"

"These are your people who serve you, who respect you, think you are wise and virtuous"

"If they think I am those things they don't know me very well," Robin interrupted.

"Oh shut up, they're about to make the announcement," Marian scolded, and comfortably leaned back against him as the herald stepped onto the watermill platform, which had always served as Locksley's stage for as long as Robin could remember.

The herald was of the pompous sort, wearing a large plume in his hat. Marian giggled at the look he gave the crowd.

When he didn't speak and began to look more closely Marian nudged Robin, "I think he's looking for you. You'd better get up there."

Robin nodded and quickly made his way through the crowd, being patted on the back by some of his tenants as he passed. By the time he made his way onto the platform, the man had been watching him. The man bowed and then brought out a scroll of parchment.

Robin looked for Marian in the crowd and winked. He approached the herald and bracingly shook his hand.

"You are most welcome to Locksley. And whom do you serve?"

"The King himself Sir Robin, I have been made Sir Bartholomew for my service in the Holy Land. I have been sent bearing proclamations to be read in every shire and city."

"And what news do you bring to us today?"

The knight importantly turned to face the crowd and Robin stepped back to listen, crossing his arms. He had heard rumors; there were always rumors from the Holy Land, and not always much else. He had heard rumors that Richard was conquering with a vengeance and had already converted and subdued hundreds of Saracens.

"By order of His Majesty Richard the Lionhearted, the countrymen of England must now aid and join the Lord's campaign. Every nobleman of rank is to join King Richard in Jerusalem to save his country, as well as all of Christendom. It is not only your duty, but your honor to serve in this manner."

Clearly Sir Bartholomew was used to thunderous applause at this point and faltered at Locksley's silence. Robin froze. Was he supposed to speak at this? Was there no time for him to think?

Luckily Sir Bartholomew continued, "Each knight has been granted time sufficient to set his lands in order, appoint a trustworthy steward and overseer, and ready his troops."

"And what is "time sufficient"?" A loud mocking voice called from the crowd. Robin groaned, of course Marian would have to speak out at this.

The herald faltered under her angered stare and mumbled, "A week."

At this the crowd began to grumble and speak. Robin faltered, watching Marian, whose eyes were now trained on him like a hawk.

"Sir Robin, what is your answer?"

Chivalry and knighthood and honor and duty all came crashing down on him when all he could think of was Marian.

"Of course I will answer King Richard's mighty call," Robin shouted manfully over the din.

He watched as Marian sent him a murderous glare and stormed her way through the crowd, out of the town square.

Sir Bartholomew rushed forward to shake Robin's hand, as the villagers now cheered, feeling only that cheering was necessary, what other reaction was acceptable?

"I have told you, I have no other choice!" Robin shouted, slamming the door behind him as he followed Marian into his bedchamber.

"Oh you have no other choice? What happened to philosopher Robin who is always going on about choices and what men can and can't do and how each man should have a voice?"

Robin smiled ruefully, "He's waiting for you to stop being angry."

"Not likely," Marian smirked, and threw open the lid of Robin's father's old trunk. The trunk that had already made one trip to Jerusalem.

"Marian I don't understand what is wrong with you! This is my duty as a man as an Earl of England!"

"A fine job you do of doing your duty."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" He demanded, yanking the clothes she was folding out of her hands and throwing them on the bed, "I won't be taking those," he continued.

"You asked me to marry you yesterday, or do you not remember?"

"What do you think I'm stupid? That I would stay here and marry you and be arrested the week later? Your father the one to arrest me? Be executed for treason?"

"That won't happen, this is England."

"Damn right it will happen. This may be England but we are at war and there will be no mercy towards me."

Marian was silent, and began refolding the things that he had thrown aside,

"You will need this, it does get cold in the desert at night," she murmured.

Robin ran his hand through his hair and stalked over to the window. Marian still remained silent.

"You're silent," he said, "You're never silent. What are you thinking?"

She shook her head sharply and kept her back turned.

He sighed angrily, "Oh Marian, come on, it'll be a year, no more."

"A year without you?" Her voice trembled. "I can't remember one day without you."

"There has been though," he said, a smile in his voice.

"Has there?" She asked calmly, trying to feign the indifference she so prized.

"In fact just a year ago you said you wanted nothing to do with me and didn't speak to me an entire week."

"You sat outside my window every day of that week!" She laughed.

"Ah but you didn't know that then, did you? To you I was gone."

She nodded and wiped at her face.

"That is what this will be like. You will think that I'm gone, but little do you know I will be watching you the whole time."

"That's a lot of sentimental rubbish Robin, as always," Marian said, but she turned to face him, her arms crossed resignedly over her chest.

"And as always doesn't it make you feel better?" Robin walked over to her and nuzzled her neck with his nose.

She wanted to laugh but it was stuck in her throat.

"What if I were to forbid you to go?"

Robin shook his head and took a step back.

"Don't do this Marian."

"What? Tell you something that I want for a change? Not just Robin's dreams?"

"That's not fair. This isn't a choice."

"I know, I know, I know, I know, I know," she sighed.

"You will still wear your ring every day?" He asked, touching the silver band on her left hand he had given her. Supposedly it had been his mother's, he was not sure if he believed it.

"As long as you want me to, I will."

Robin roughly grabbed her up into his arms. She cupped the back of his head with her palm, and stroked his hair like she did when he was sleeping.

"Are you planning to leave at dawn tomorrow?"

"And have you decided to come with me as far as Nottingham, be with your father?"

"No, there is no reason to prolong a goodbye of years by a day or two. And I want to stay here, and sleep in your bed until it stops smelling of you."

Robin nodded and held her closer.

"It's your eighteenth birthday Marian," he whispered.

"I thought you had forgotten in all of this."

"How could I forget after what you did to me last year?"

She laughed, "I was pretty brutal wasn't I?"

"Like always."

"Like always?" She cuffed him on the ear and smiled.

"No, you're gentle as a lamb," he murmured in mock seriousness.

"Honestly Robin, perhaps it will be nice to have a break from you."

"A very short one, I promise," he said sincerely.

"All right then," she agreed, tugging him closer to the bed strewn with clothes still to be packed.

"But you haven't finished packing Marian."

"I thought perhaps _you_ could finish packing in the morning."


	2. Chapter 2

"Your highness," Robin knelt before Richard and pressed the hem of the king's robe to his lips.

"Robin of Locksley I presume? Very like your father," Richard mused, patted the boy's head and gestured him to rise.

Robin looked around himself again nervously. It was the largest tent pavilion he had seen in his travels so far, and draped with tapestries from England, and the king sat in a throne of English wood. Only the grains of sand escaping between the rugs laid down betrayed where they truly were. Guards stood poised at each entrance to the pavilion, not one of them a familiar knight from home.

"My King, you have sent for me and now I am here."

Richard laughed, "So you are. And I am glad of it. Out of all the knights I called, you are the one I was most eager for their arrival. Go on out to meet the messenger with news from England, the messenger was but a day or two behind you. I heard you lost some time in a storm on the Mediterranean. That must have been terrifying!"

The king was jovial and his eyes danced with merriment and Robin rejoiced that this man was their king, this man, the true Christian. Surely this man had never lost or failed at anything.

"Sire," a man called from the door. "The envoy comes."

"Bring them in," Richard called and the tent flapped aside to reveal three figures entering. One was a tall dark man robed in black, the second was obviously yet another of Richard's immense guard, and the third a very short woman swathed in yards of white fabric, like all the Muslim women.

The tall dark man began to speak in one of the flowing languages of the area that Robin had not yet begun to identify, let alone understand. And then the woman spoke, and, in surprise, Robin turned to her.

"He says his name is Hamide; that he comes in Elfar's stead."

Her voice was strange, unaccented, she had not spoken this man's language from birth, and yet she was not English, certainly not, the skin around her eyes and her hands were golden dark, though lighter than the man's skin. And she spoke English with no French or Spanish accent either. It was also unaccented as she spoke in a flat tone; these were not her words, but the man's. Robin had heard many interpreters, but none who seemed to care so little about what they were interpreting.

"And what has happened to Elfar? Why am I not dealing with him?"

And then the woman's voice was beautiful, a rushing current of a language obviously more beloved to her than English.

And the man returned angrily a long, harsh string of words.

"He says that it is no concern of yours, and even if he did know, he would not tell you. Those were not the terms of surrender."

"By God," Richard exclaimed, pounding his fist on the arm of his throne-like chair, "I will hear no more from this man whom I do not know nor trust."

The woman suddenly rushed to the king and knelt before him.

"My Lord, I am no one, a nameless fool interpreter but I beg you, for the sake of me and my people please do not send this man away in anger."

Richard grumbled, "You are not a fool, though you may remain no one if you so choose."

She looked up at the King with immense gratitude and Robin saw her eyes. It had been three months since he had seen those green eyes and they had haunted him in every grove of trees, and now on every horizon of sand. And here she was daring to look at his king with those dark emerald eyes. They were Marian's eyes.

The woman nodded and returned to her neutral stance as interpreter. Hamide muttered to her under his breath. It did not take an interpreter to know what he asked and she assured him rapidly that she had just begged the king's patience with them. The man in black nodded, bowed and left, the woman behind him. Clearly, this interview was over. Robin glanced at the king,

"Please Sire, may I help my manservant prepare our tent?"

"Of course."

Robin nodded and fair dove out of the tent and ran after the woman, who walked slowly through the fair street of a caravan they made up on this hillside.

"My lady," he said as he stepped up behind her.

She paused and turned. Robin's face fell. Up close they were not so like Marian's eyes. True, they were dark green, but with that golden skin around them they were like a stranger's. Perhaps it had been the expression in them as she looked at the king that was like his girl's.

Now he had to have something to say, now that she was staring up at him.

"What is your name?" He smiled devilishly. Even at eighteen he knew his effect on women.

She blushed, "Laena. It means 'palm tree' in Arabic, 'dwelling place' in Hebrew, and 'prostitute' in Latin. All languages I speak. You will find I am much more one of those than the others."

Robin laughed, scratching his head, squinting into the sunlight, "And which one is that?"

"You need to ask monsieur?" She laughed harshly.

"I am sorry I stopped you, it's just that your eyes reminded me of someone I once knew."

"She is still in England?" That unaccented voice belied the question intended by her eyes.

"Yes."

"And what is your name?"

"Robin of Locksley. My name is a bird in England."

"Yes I know, I have seen them."

"Well then."

"Yes."

She turned and walked slowly away, on her same path. He watched her until she turned to the last tent in the long row and opened the flap and disappeared inside. He frowned as soon as she was gone. She was nothing like he had hoped.

The next morning Much marched triumphantly into their tent, jubilantly waving something in Robin's face. His eyes were wide with excitement,

"I didn't read it, though I can't imagine how it got here so fast, unless she wrote it the minute you left. Knowing Marian I guess she might have. Always leaving things unsaid till the last minute."

Robin jumped up and snatched the letter from Much and tore it open. It was very short, just twelve sentences. Like a stupid sonnet he might have written her. Knowing Marian he shouldn't have expected anything verbose or romantic. But given that it was to be sent across two continents he thought she might have made it more worth her while to send.

_Dearest Robin,_

_ I'm writing this the second after you have said goodbye to me. The messenger is leaving tomorrow and I have already told him he'll have a letter from me, so this should arrive with you to Jerusalem. I like that idea, it's like I'm coming with you. I want you to understand why I could not accept your proposal a few days ago, despite the beauty and allure of it in that our favorite place of all places. I love you, but I know that you do not love me. You love your people, and you love the King, and you love Locksley. I am but a girl that you have laid with on countless nights and told your dreams to. And I was foolish enough not to dissuade you from them. But I am not foolish anymore Robin of Locksley. I cannot imagine loving anyone but you but I hope that I can and do. Please write to me and tell me that I am wrong and that you are coming home as soon as you have delivered our aid and our men. Whatever you do, don't get yourself killed. _

_ Yours,_

_ Marian_

"Is it anything good? Can I read it?" Much asked, standing in the doorway, shaking the perpetual sand out of his boots.

"You cannot," Robin replied, putting the letter in his leather saddlebag, now useless as he had given his horse over to the king's service.

"Oh come on, she's my friend too. You've always let me read the things you've written her."

"It was different then Much. This letter is all I have to go on that she still loves me. Excuse me if I want to keep that to myself."

"Very well. I'll see about your breakfast and what we'll be told to do today."

"It's our first full day, I wouldn't expect much," Robin grumbled, already bored by the slow pace of life in the Holy Land.

"Well I'll at least find the rest of our men." Much stalked away, mumbling under his breath. Robin laughed and turned back to the letter. He thought he should write exactly the same number of sentences back; see how she feels being given so little. He searched for a piece of parchment in his bags, found none and so turned the letter over and wrote on the back.

_Dear Marian,_

_ First of all, I have no paper to write on so please send this letter back with your next one so that I may keep it. I hate to part with it so that I may reply to you. I am writing you back so you see you are wrong. I do love you. And I still have not spoken with the king but I promise I will return as soon as I can convince him that I have brought him what he asked for, and that I must come home. I should be leaving within a few weeks at the very latest. Hopefully I will be there before this letter is. All across the world traveling here I saw your eyes in every forest and on the edge of every sandy horizon. I have only been here one day and already I am bored. There is no fighting and no one will tell me what to do. It has already been three months and I am afraid you have already forgotten me. Believe that I will marry you._

_ Your fiancé,_

_ Robin_

"Lord in Heaven," Robin murmured, "I need to return to her. Find a way, please!"


	3. Chapter 3

Robin tiptoed into the king's private tent.

"It's all right Robin, you told me you were coming after all. You're not an outlaw breaking into my castle. Out here in the desert we are all equals, fighting for Christ's glory."

Robin grinned, "Yes Your Highness."

"You are not happy Robin. I thought all young boys were dying to come and lay down their lives in my Crusade."

"Only the ones who are fools to not see what is happening to England while you fight."

Richard's smile fell and hardened.

"What do you want with me boy?"  
"I have brought you all the gold that Locksley and myself could spare. I have also brought the young men of my shire who wished to come and serve. I beg you let me return home."

"Fiddlesticks boy, what are you talking of?"

"I have made a promise and I will not go back on my word."

Richard slowly turned away, and reached for his wine glass, and took a long drink before answering.

"Yes."

"And?"

"There is an elderly knight who will need to be escorted home by some; if there are some of your men you would rather have return to Locksley."

"I want you to send me home with them."  
"My boy, look around you."

Robin quizzically glanced around him.

"This camp may seem grand to you compared to Nottingham and Locksley. But my mission is falling to pieces. The French refuse to send aid. My own mother says she deplores the actions we are taking. I will not send any one of my men home."

"I am not only _your_ man, Your Highness."

"You are not a man at all; you are but a foolish child in love with a silly schoolgirl."

"I want to be at home," Robin cried, feeling tears springing to his eyes.

Richard's face hardened again.

"This interview is over. I have compassion for your plight, but there is nothing I can or will do. You will have to make your own decision."

Robin bowed harshly and practically ran out of the tent, and, his eyes blinded by the sunlight, crashed into someone. He felt the tears ready to overflow and stumbled away.

"You could at least apologize." The flat voice stopped him in his tracks.

Robin turned, scowling at her.

She smiled in return, "Look, you've made me drop all my wool. Now there's sand in it."

He continued to blink back his tears.

"A true gentleman would have offered to pay me in exchange for it."

Robin, now blinded by both tears and sunlight turned away hastily from her white figure.

"Oh I'm so sorry! Don't be upset, I was only joking." And her voice suddenly was the most lovely thing in the world, and her English accent sounded like home and Robin wheeled around a corner and ran off into the hillside.

He knelt down, knowing she followed and buried his face in his hands.

"God damn it," he shouted, pounding his fist into the Earth, "God damn it!"

He rocked back and forth and then said more softly, "I didn't mean it God, but you have to take me back home. I should not be here. Give me the strength…"

Laena approached him but he threw up a hand behind him to stop her,

"Don't, please, don't."

"All right," she said, "I will pray for you."

"What do you know of prayers?" He demanded, whirling around, but she was already gone.

Richard was hosting a banquet the next night to welcome all of his new come knights and infantry. Much was excited, Much was always excited, and he was hastily mending a tunic of Robin's that Marian had had the foresight to pack. It was a lovely green velvet garment, Marian had "made" it for him for his birthday that year. There had been an argument about that. He had teased Marian that she hadn't "made" it; she had done the embroidery and the edging. They both knew her maid had done the actual stitching. But of course, he couldn't remember the maid's name. Which made Marian laugh at him, and made him feel like she thought he cared nothing for his people. Always his people, she had said numerous times. Why am I not your people, she had always asked.

"Careful with that Much," Robin jumped to his feet as he saw Much gently tearing away an uneven hem to start it afresh.

"Do you want me to do this or not, Master?"

Much had taken to calling Robin 'master' again, like before they had left England. Robin had gotten used to Much's easy camaraderie on the journey and now sorely missed it. Now that he felt as alone as ever.

"I'm sorry Much."

"There's no need to apologize master."

"Would you stop that already?" Robin grabbed the fabric away from him and through it across the tent, all of about four feet.

"Stop what? And hand that back to me, the feast is only in a few hours. Marian's made a mess of that thing."

"Stop this, 'master' bullshit! On the road here it was Robin and Much remember?"

"Like here I can forget that I'm your servant? Here with all these other nobles strutting around. You know they're never going to see active combat. It's all of us that are going to die for this bloody ridiculous cause!"

Robin was stunned, blinking at Much as though he had never met him, "Much I'm not going to let you die out here. I'm not going to let any of you die out here."

"You talked to the king yesterday, didn't you?"

"And?"

"And we're not leaving, are we? We're bloody well stuck here."

"Much I'm doing the best I can."

Much grumbled and started sewing again.

"And I hate doing women's work," he finished.

Robin grinned.

The night air was clouded with thick clouds of incense and the heady scents of the various meats, all drenched in sweet sauces. Everyone was still drinking their fill and had begun dancing. Robin wandered a few paces into the night away from the crowded pavilion.

"That is two apologies you owe me now," a voice called a few steps behind him.

Robin made no answer, just took another long drink from his cup of wine. It had been a long night of negotiations, and as he had finally realized the talk was meaningless, had begun to drink, more than he had drunk in years.

"One, for the wool you knocked into the dust. Two, for thinking me a Saracen."

"And you are not?" Robin asked negligently.

"No, I am not."

"Fine then, I'm sorry."

Robin turned to go.

"If you think the king will let you go easily you are wrong. He is a good man but he is desperate. If you wish to go home, you must accomplish something very brave for him."

"I know a woman like you at home, thinks she can run every man's business better than him."

"Is this the woman you were crying about yesterday?"

"I was not crying-listen; it's not your problem."

"You think not? Very well. I'll leave you."

"What is your name again?"

"Laena," she replied, closing the distance between them. "I would have thought you would remember with that introduction I gave you. But alas, your heart is filled with her."

Before Robin could stop himself he had reached out a hand as if to stroke the woman's hair, and his hand only drifted down onto the thin linen of her wrappings. Her wrappings, he thought, like mummies he had heard about and never seen.

He blinked furiously, trying to clear his head.

"I think you have had too much wine Monsieur Robin."

She helped him to sit down in the dirt and he put his head between his legs.

She gracefully undid the veils that covered her face and lifted his head.

"You see? I am not a Saracen."

She was not. The skin that always remained covered was several shades lighter than the skin of her hands and eyes. And there she was like Marian again before his eyes.

Suddenly he had leaned over and kissed her. She floundered, her eyes wide open and she gently pushed him back.

"I was not expecting that, forgive me." She sighed.

"Do I have to apologize for that too?" Robin joked, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning back on his elbows.

"No," she replied firmly. She leaned down beside him and pressed her lips to his cautiously, clearly mocking his ridiculous first attempt. And as his lips melted open under hers he became a delicious kisser, slow and fervent. She somehow thought kissing him was like a prayer. She drew back as soon as she could bring herself to do so and stood.

"Umm wait…uh…"

"Laena," she impatiently supplied.

"Right, thank you. Do you have any ideas for the brilliant feat of arms I'm to do that will let me go home?"

"Yes, I do."

"All right, then."

She refastened her veil and crept away into the night. Robin leaned back in the dirt, for the moment pleased with himself. But by the time he had crashed back into his tent for the evening, he found himself turning over with remorse. And unlike his pleasant Marian fantasies he entertained before going to sleep each night, their first night came unbidden to his mind and he ached with it, asking God that this memory would be his only penance for kissing the elusive Saracen. Normally the memory was filled with laughter when he reviewed it with Marian. Now, thousands of miles away all he could focus on was that he had made her cry.

_"Robin are you sure no one comes down here?" Marian hissed as Robin led her by the hand into a little glen nestled into a hill side, a wide, wide oak tree supporting the earth of the hill behind it. It was like a nook especially designed for them, Robin thought, knowing Marian's obsession with secrecy. _

_ "I don't understand why there's such a big secret about us, Marian," Robin said, an edge of annoyance creeping into his voice, which he heard and tried to check._

_ "It's not for your sake, Robin."_

_ "Well never mind that, what do you think?" Robin spread his arms wide in the little space, he scarcely had room to do it without brushing hillside or tree._

_ "It's beautiful Robin."_

_ "So are you," he whispered, and sidled up to her._

_ "Stop that," she smiled and pushed him back._

_ "What?" He asked, unmoving._

_ "Stop being so charming. I'm here you know, you don't need to persuade me."_

_ "I'm not persuading you."_

_ She laughed once and took a step back, "Just let me catch my breath."_

_ "Are you sure then? It doesn't have to be today."_

_ "But it has to be some day, why not today?"_

_ "It doesn't have to be any day, Marian."_

_ "Believe me; I want this as much as you do."_

_ And as if this sentence gave her courage she stepped back into his arms, her hands clasped behind his neck. _

"Robin!" Much's voice thankfully interrupted the memory there, "Master you've got to wake up, the King has called an emergency council with all his men."

Robin struggled to sit up, still dizzy and half-drunk.

"It's the middle of the night, Much."

"I didn't call the meeting!"

"All right, just give me some water."

"I saw you with the Saracen girl outside the pavilion."

"She's not a Saracen."

Much shrugged and handed him the water.

"Much, she may have a plan to get us out of here. She thinks if I can do something heroic the king will let me return to England."

"How would she know?"

"I saw the way she looked at the king the day we arrived. I think she understands him."

"Robin you better be careful, messing with the king's girl."

Robin was about ready to retort that he had done nothing of the sort but choked the remark back.

"I know, I will be careful. All of us need to be careful."

Robin staggered to his feet, found himself more steady than he would have thought and made his way to the king's private quarters. When he reached the tent he found none of the knights had assembled yet, but Laena was sitting in the corner on the floor, near to the king, who sat as usual on his throne-like chair. What he could make out of Laena's eyes in the dim light betrayed nothing.

"Robin."

"Your Highness."

"I'm sorry to call you away from what was likely a rollicking good time."

"Not at all Sire, I was already asleep."

The King nodded knowingly and Robin bewilderedly glanced at Laena, who seemed to shrug.

"Laena," the king motioned her over with a finger. She stood gracefully and kept a step away from the throne.

"Please fetch some water, I think more knights than just this young man will be in need of it."

She bowed and left the tent.

"Your lady is a fine interpreter," Robin said.

"Yes she is. Remarkable to be so young and speak so many languages. I do not even know the total number that she speaks. English, and Arabic, and Hebrew, she has told me. And she can make her way through Farsi as well."

Robin nodded, bored with this small talk, and beginning to develop and headache.

However, at that moment several more knights arrived at once and everyone sat down in the chairs that were hastily brought in.

The King wasted no time.

"Jepthe's army is on the move. My messenger has spotted him with at least three hundred not ten miles off. He has been our ally in the past but my sources in the city have led me to believe we should perhaps prepare ourselves for an ambush."

There was general outcry from the knights at this amongst themselves but Robin addressed himself to the King. Laena had nodded briefly as she caught Robin's eye and that was all the encouragement he needed to volunteer himself.

"Sire, could an envoy perhaps be dispatched?"

"Yes?"

"It won't be much of an ambush with us forewarned. I think if Jepthe knew this he would no so hastily attack."

"What are you suggesting?"

"I am suggesting that you approach that waiting army with five men, and order them to disband. That we are ready for them with five hundred men."

"Why are speaking boy? What do you know of war?" Sir Thomas reprimanded.

Robin did not turn, but kept his eyes on the king.

Richard sighed, "Sir Thomas, you have produced solid negotiations in the past, you will go and take five of your men out to meet them. Tell them we are ready for them."  
"Thank you Sire," Sir Thomas stood and bowed, one fist clapped over his heart.

Robin sat down with an audible sigh.

"Do not worry Sir Robin; you will get your chance."

The meeting quickly disbanded after that and Robin made his way back to his tent, now completely sober and furious. He saw Laena up ahead, drawing up water from the well.

He ran to her and snatched the bucket from her hand and grabbed her wrist.

"I thought that was my opening."

"It was meant to be, I had already spoken to him about you."

"Then why was I not chosen?"

"I do not know."  
"Did he see the way you looked at me?"

"What?"  
"Did he see?"  
"I did not look at you any way sir."

Robin laughed harshly, "What am I supposed to do? Wait for a huge battle and then scurry off? It can't come to that, Laena; I will not have my people butchered."

She calmly returned to getting her water.

"Could you please look at me?"

She turned to face him.

"I swear that if I can leave for England that I will take you away from here, and take you home."

"What makes you think I am so desperate to leave the king's service?"

"That you kissed me tonight."

"Yes well, for a moment you reminded me of someone, that is all," she said, and went back to the water. This time he let her.

"May I speak with you tomorrow? About our next plan?"

"Yes. The King will be busy all day, consulting with his religious council about what is their next step once Sir Thomas returns victorious. Thomas will be leaving within the hour, did you know?"

"Where can I meet you?"

"In my tent, it's the last one in the same row as yours."

"All right then."


	4. Chapter 4

"Much, wake up," Robin whispered, shaking the sleeping man's shoulder.

"Much!"

"I'm awake," he grumbled, forcing his eyes open.

Robin grinned and sat down beside him.

"Sir Thomas is leading an envoy out to meet a threatening army in the hills ten miles from here. He should be back in a day or two. No peace, certainly, but no battle immediately. Then, we can make our move."

"And is the Saracen girl going to help you?"

"Yes. I'm speaking with her tomorrow."

"All right then. Don't wake me up again with such stupid news."

"Laena," Robin hesitantly called at the outside of the small tent.

"Come in," she replied.

He entered slowly, and drew in his breath slowly. From Laena's flat speech and her observance of the shrouded dress of the Muslim's, he had expected a Spartan living space. But it was beautiful. She had a bed frame of wood, a rarity in camp, Robin had noticed, and there were wool blankets and pillows all carefully dyed to different jewel tones. There was pottery everywhere, at least ten pieces beyond the necessity he thought. And propped up against the back wall of the tent was a painting of a young girl, draped in velvet, lying naked on a bed.

"You like my portrait?" She asked.

"That is you?"

"Yes. Not a strong resemblance I admit, but I was fond of the painter, so I've kept it."

"It's lovely."

"Yes, well. Please sit down," Laena motioned to one of two stools beside a low make-shift table of a flat of wood on a barrel. The only thing makeshift about this room, he thought. Laena sat cross-legged on the bed, and Robin saw her feet were as brown as her hands and eyes.

"Do you walk barefoot then?"

"Excuse me? Oh, yes, I do. Part of a penance, you see."

Robin nodded in feigned understanding. Laena's eyes crinkled as though she were smiling and she continued,

"I have heard that you have skill with a bow and arrow."

"Some people say I'm the best in England."

"Yes, I have also heard you're quite cocky."

Robin blushed and looked down at his hands.

"That was meant as a joke," she was with mock seriousness.

"You're free to laugh," she continued.

Robin remained silent.

"I see you have lost your sense of humor along with your home."

Now Robin laughed, though with a touch of bitterness.

"You will find it is not that bad here."

"Thank you, but I'd rather not find that out. I've made a promise to someone."

"That promise probably does not involve kissing other women."

Robin stared at her.

"Another joke," she offered feebly.

He continued to stare.

"Well then, down to business. The King has few men he trusts. I have found them all to be trustworthy in all my dealings with them. You see, I have been something of a spy in times past."

Robin smiled, "I think we understand each other now."

"I thought we might. That's why I've taken an interest in you."

"I had been wondering that, if it weren't for my good looks and boyish charm."

Laena laughed, and once again she was like Marian and Robin found himself grinning despite himself.

"There is a man I want you to meet. His name is Christian."

"Christian?"

"Yes, he has a strange sense of humor. Richard and I alone know that this man is the one who is controlling the opposition. The Sultan and the king are just puppets in his hands. If he were to be assassinated, the alliance between all these Muslim factions would dissolve. And they could either be defeated through force, or treaties made about land and churches etc. His assassination could mean the end of this Crusade. And that is where you come in, you and your skill with the bow and arrow."

"I have never killed a man and I do not relish the idea. You are sure this could send me home?"

"Undoubtedly. The King wants this so badly he would even make a deal with you to insure that when you are successful. And you will be, I know the city well, and I have spied for Christian before, I can get you in."

"What is the proof that you are not a spy for him now? That you are not just turning me over to him to get back in his good graces and get out of the king's service?"

"When Christian dismissed me, he offered proof of my disloyalty to him for my future employers."

She set aside her exterior wrap and stood up to strip off her white tunic, and then sat back down. She seemed unperturbed by her nudity, but then, Robin thought, she had likely shown this to many men before. And Robin couldn't help thinking what a sick man it was that would brand her such that she would have to be naked in order to be trusted.

She pointed, as if it needed pointing, to a brand on her left breast, over her heart. It was hideously contorted, originally it must have been a C, but it wavered, and was dark purple and red scar tissue.

"How long?"

"A year."

"And it is still?" Robin gestured to the gruesome mark.

"Oh yes. It is likely it will never fade, I've been told. You see, he knows that burns, brands, are easily healed over time. So he cuts the skin first, waits until it is bleeding freely, and then lays on the branding iron."

"I am sorry."

"I may not be loyal to you yet, Robin of Locksley, although I may be in time, but believe me when I say that I want Christian dead."

"Shall we shake on it then?"

Laena offered her hand and Robin shook it hard and then stood to go.

Just before he reached the entrance, Much frantically scrambled in, breathing heavily.

"Sir Thomas…Sir Thomas" he struggled to catch his breath.

"What's happened? Do we have surrender from Jepthe?"

Much shook his head and swallowed hard.

Laena spoke then, "Is he back?"

"Oh he's back, in a way."

Laena and Robin glanced at each other.

"What do you mean in a way?"

"His head. On a pike, brought back by one of his men. The other three were killed."

"My God, who are these people?" Robin thundered.

"Easy now," Laena commanded, her voice brusque with no attempt at being soothing, "This only means our plan happens now. Tonight. We will go speak with Richard now."

"If we go tonight, Much comes with me."

"That's right, I come with him," Much seconded. "Where are we going?"

"To assassinate their leader."

"And I'm not going."  
"Much, I need you."

"While you boys settle this, I will be speaking to the King."

And she left and walked off, Robin and Much hurrying to catch up.

Robin and Laena and Much scurried along the walkway atop the city wall. The King had of course agreed to the plan, so eagerly that it made Robin wonder if it hadn't been his idea in the first place. He kicked himself for being so easily duped for a woman, but Much had tried to comfort him saying that she had used to be a spy after all so she's no ordinary woman in terms of trickery.

"All right," she whispered now, "It's that house there."

She pointed to the house nearest them now, just a stone's throw from the wall.

"You will climb up the outside ladder behind that wall, it is concealed behind that falling wall of jasmine blossoms, if it were winter, you could see it now."

"Yes I know."

"Yes, but Robin," she grabbed his arm just as he was about to shimmy down the rope Much had already thrown over the edge of the wall, "If he is not alone in his bedroom, you will have to kill everyone there, do you understand me?"

He nodded quickly and turned away.

"Even if it is a child, can you do that?"

Robin nodded sullenly, like a boy being punished for doing something naughty.

"All right then, let him down," she instructed Much and grabbed the end of the rope herself to brace him further.

Once Robin reached the ground, Much hurriedly pulled the rope back up.

"And now we wait," Laena murmured, sinking down to sit.

"Why can't he just fire an arrow in again?"

"Because they have skilled physicians, and arrows are easily treated in a city such as this. He would not die, it would only make him angry. What Robin has to do will be much harder."

Robin easily crossed the packed dirt road to the house's wall. That was easy enough. And feeling around for the rope ladder behind the jasmine flowers was easy enough as well. But then actually putting his foot on the ladder was something entirely different. His mind flooded with memories as his body flooded with adrenaline, as if every time before he had had to fight for his life was reignited by this fresh struggle. The fire that killed his father, when he had nearly drowned as a child, when he thought Marian would die of the plague, and then only Marian, images of Marian washing her clothes in the washtub, riding her horse, climbing a tree, laying supine on his bed waiting for him, dancing with him, thoughts flickering so fast before his eyes they blurred and it was only the essence of her that remained. He put his foot on the ladder and climbed.

The bedroom he entered at the window was much like any other. And the sleeping man looked like any other. And there was a young girl beside him but Robin wouldn't dwell on that now. He strode to the man's side of the bed. He drew out his dagger. And without pausing he slashed the man's throat, once, twice, three times. The man's eyes flashed open and instantly froze in death. He had not made a sound or moved a muscle. Robin took a deep breath and stepped away from the growing pool of blood on the floor. He would not look at the blood on the hand that held the knife. He crossed the room and stood before the girl. She was an Oriental of some kind, and very young. She was curled onto her side away from the man. As Robin watched she turned onto her back and flicked at a fly that buzzed near her. The fly quickly found better prey in the blood that now was congealing on the dead man's chest. Robin did not know if even a minute had passed. He drew the knife up again and plunged it point first into the girl's throat. A gush of blood spurted at him, into his face, obscuring his vision and the girl began to choke and sputter, and made what she could of a scream as she saw the corpse beside her. Her eyes wildly sought Robin's as he drove his knife down into her stomach. He hoped that in Heaven the girl would forgive him when she had seen the tears in his eyes as he killed her.

Her coughing and gasping continued a moment and then faded, as another sound, pounding footsteps approached the door. Robin ran for the window as the door was flung open and men rushed at him and drove him to the ground, pinning his arms behind him. His rational mind told him to be calm, to think, not to fight, and Robin forced his instincts to obey that order and was still.

The head guard, it seemed, faced him. The man spoke a rapid sentence in Arabic and the guards drug Robin to his feet and out the door in total silence. Robin heard only the thudding of his heart as they crossed a courtyard into what was clearly the royal palace gates. They entered through the main gates proudly, and though it was night, several figures lurked about, and stared at the captive. Through countless corridors they turned until finally they came to a room that Robin recognized in a moment. It was their dungeon. At their entrance a loud ruckus began from all the prisoners, shouting and cursing in several languages. They shuffled Robin along to the end of the row of cells and opened the last cage. They pushed him in, unshackled, though the shackles sitting two feet outside the cell door made their meaning clear, and shut the door behind him.

Robin stood in the center of the cell, unmoving. He thought he could almost hear time ticking by with the clank of some man's chain in the unit next to them. He stared at his hands, covered in blood of the evil, and blood of the innocent. But he could not think how they had come to be this way. How were his hands covered in blood? He had been a land owner, he had been a farmer, he had been a lover, and now, he was a murderer. And God had seen fit to punish him for it.

"Hey!"

The voice jarred Robin from his thoughts and he glanced towards the sound. It came from a Muslim man curled up on a pile of dirty cloth.

"Water?" The man gestured to a small jug by the bars. A few flies flew about it.

"Thanks," Robin crossed and drank heavily from the jar.

"They give us water," the man continued.

"Why?" Robin did not think he could possibly be interested in the answer.

"If we die, they can't torture us. And men dry out fast in this place."

"Torture?"

"You have a few days, I think."

"But I…"  
"You're innocent?" The man interrupted.

Robin frowned and shook his head.

"Ah, then you may have shorter."

Robin shook his head to clear it and moved to what was clearly meant as his side of the cell.

"The blanket was a reward," the man said, as he noticed Robin looking for his.

Robin nodded and lay down on his stomach, his head on his arm.

"I thought you could not be innocent with that much blood on you."

Robin turned away.

"The first session will clean that off well enough though."

The man seemed momentarily put off by Robin's silence and went back to sleep.

Robin felt as though he couldn't make his mind move along any logical pathways. He wanted to think about whether Laena and Much had been found along the wall, and whether they too would be brought here. He wanted to focus on a plan for escape, on what he could tell his torturers and what he would have to hide. But his mind could not even form the ideas. It remained blank until suddenly he thought of God. He pushed himself to his knees and clasped his hands to pray.

Dear God, he pleaded, I am sure that you are too busy caring for those who are not murderers but in the chance that I am still within your notice, I pray to you. I deserve whatever comes to me here on Earth at the hands of these men but please, please do not let Laena and Much be taken. Please, let Marian forget me. Please, let me die at their hands tomorrow. Do not let me live with this pain. Do not let me live with the sight of those bodies and this blood that is still on my hands.

He prayed until his mind could form no more words and then only offered up the picture of Marian, smiling, washing her clothes in the front lawn, talking to him. Her brown hair falling in her face, and she brushing it back again, throwing tiny drops of water everywhere like little diamonds in the light. Dear God, judge me by this, judge me by my love for her. Let this be the memory of Robin of Locksley.


	5. Chapter 5

A few hours later the barred door screeched open and two guards entered the cell and dragged Robin to his feet. He still did not speak. He thought perhaps he had lost the ability to speak in his dark sleepless night.

This time the block was silent, as all the prisoners stared as they passed by. Pair after pair of dark eyes trailed after him as they left the hallway and went into a bright torch-lit room. Robin's eyes widened in fear and he felt his heart quicken instinctually but his brain could process no thought of fear.

"Sir Robin of Locksley I believe," a man with his back turned said.

Robin shrugged. He did not much care what his name was anymore. He would rather it was something different, a name that was not a murderer.

The man who spoke turned. He was thin, his figures chiseled as if in stone, his cheeks and eye-sockets hollow.

"My name is Fahad and I will be your torturer. We will become very close in time."

He sauntered over to where Robin stood with the guards by his sides. As soon as Fahad's skeletal figure neared them, the guards immediately backed away to stand by the door. Robin thought, ah, even they are afraid.

Robin wearily looked Fahad in the eye.

"I realize I know very little about you, Robin."

"That's not my name," he said in total seriousness. He was surprised that he himself had spoken. And he dimly realized that it had felt true.

"Oh," Fahad seemed taken aback, clearly registering the truth in Robin's eyes. "No matter. Let's start again then. What's your name?"

Robin clenched his jaw and turned away.

"Well this puts me at a terrible disadvantage, poor manners. You know my name, and I do not know yours," on the word yours Fahad punched Robin in the face. Robin screamed and fell to the ground from the impact and felt at his face. His fingers came away with fresh blood from his cheek. He felt more carefully and felt torn skin at his jaw.

He looked up to see Fahad flexing his fingers of his right hand and Robin saw the gold rings on each of his five fingers, they had small iron spikes on each one.

"I'm asking again. I don't like asking twice."

Robin shook his head and nearly blanched as he saw how much blood he was losing onto the stone floor.

"Very well. On to the entertainment of today then, shall we?"

Robin got to his feet and proudly followed Fahad through a narrow doorway into the next room.

"You've noticed the guards have not followed us. That's because they know they are not needed. Why fight against an inevitability?"

Robin nodded, bravely facing the device before him. Simple enough, a wide see-saw table with a giant vat of water under one side.

"You will be strapped to the table; it will be tipped forward so that you will be upside down in the water. I'm informing you of this so you don't drown out of panic the first go. I will occasionally not tell you what is coming, depending on my mood and what suits best the manner of torture."

Robin sighed and stepped up to the table. The numbness of his shame had not yet lifted and he imagined he must be in a horrible dream and he would awake by Marian's side in a moment or two. Probably right before he died in this dream reality. He climbed on and Fahad fastened his arms and legs into the shackles.

"You're lucky you're tall, so you won't dangle," Fahad commented, as he tightened the chains.

"All right, here we go," and Fahad tipped the table and Robin was plunged into the water.

Panic did seize him for a moment as he stared into the water and felt his lungs contracting. And then pure, carnal fear. This was it then, this is how he would die. And he felt his lungs shuddering, dying to take a breath, dying to let the water in. He couldn't allow that, he had to survive if only for a second longer. The longer his penance, the more likely he would get to Heaven. And Heaven was the only way he would see his father and Marian again. Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done on Earth as it is in-

And the table turned and Robin gasped in the stale, thick air of the chamber.

"You know, you don't have to tell me your name if you really don't want to," Fahad said, patting Robin on the shoulder. "I'll just call you Will; most English men I've come across seem to be named Will, or William, or Bill, or Billy or some other such nonsense."

Robin nodded eagerly.

"Oh so that is your name? Very well. Take a moment, catch your breath, and then we'll go again. This time, your meditation should be…what did King Richard eat for breakfast yesterday?"

And so the table turned.

Yesterday, was it just yesterday? I wasn't with the King in the morning, why would I eat breakfast with the King. Laena probably ate with him, or even brought him breakfast in bed. If only she were here to tell me, that's not sensitive information, I wouldn't think. Oh God in Heaven I can't breathe, I can't breathe. And spots began to appear before his eyes and he shut them, and then there was just pulsing colors. I can't…I have to take a breath, just one breath. I can't…I can't…Our Father, who art in Heaven-

And the table turned.

"Now, what did the king eat for breakfast?"

"Eggs."

"You fool, an army can't get any eggs. No, try again please."

"Toasted bread."

"Wrong again."

"I don't care," Robin breathed. He was had lost all feeling in his feet and legs and his arms were aching. And he still couldn't breathe. It was as if he was still underwater all this time. His lungs wouldn't expand properly to catch his breath.

"Hmm," Fahad murmured speculatively, "We shall have to clean that cut on your face if we don't want you to die of some rotting disease from it. Here."

And he had gone to a cabinet on the wall and returned with a small bottle.

"We're just going to help this heal with some iodine."

And he poured a dribble on Robin's face and rubbed it into the gash on his jaw.

"And for some good measure."

He started to pry open Robin's mouth. Robin frantically jerked in protest, keeping his jaw clamped shut.

"Hush, hush, hush," Fahad admonished and plugged Robin's nose.

This was worse than the water, with at least the comfort of the soft caress of cool liquid. It was like a furnace in his brain as he felt the room and his body get hotter and hotter until his lips opened briefly to sneak a breath and in Fahad tipped the liquid, filling his mouth. Robin once again was without air. Fahad held his jaws tightly shut and once again, as he felt he was on the edge of unconsciousness, he swallowed and breathed. Fahad poured more in and repeated the process, until Robin thought it was lucky that the torturer had resorted to poison so quickly. Fahad unstrapped him and threw him into the antechamber where the guards collected him. The interview was over.

By the time he was tossed back into his cell he was coughing, spasmodic, rattling coughs that he couldn't control.

"Are you all right my friend?" The man asked.

Robin nodded, on all fours on the floor, trying to get his bearings. The room did not seem solid at all. He nodded again and then felt his stomach heave and he vomited onto the stones. He stared unthinking as he saw there was blood in it. It seemed that everything to do with him these days was blood.

"I do not think you are," the man contradicted.

"Oh God," Robin cried as he felt the room slipping away from him, and his vision get blurry, "I can't see, it's going dark," and he coughed again.

Then his body collapsed to the floor and began to convulse. Shock waves going through his limbs. His head jerked and the man watched helplessly as Robin's teeth clashed together and foam began to froth at his lips. The man hastily got up off his blanket and stuffed it under Robin's head. He then knelt behind the seizing man and held his face between his hands.

"Allah," the man called, "Allah."

The man watched in horror as Robin's pants soaked with urine and feces laced with blood. The boy's body gradually slowed to a stop and he collapsed onto the stones.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"No need, my friend."

Robin's eyes closed as he felt another seizure begin. This time he was not alone. There she was, beside his bed, her eyes concerned but her lips trying to smile. Ah, he remembered now, it was the time he had been bit by that stray dog. It had been nothing, but it had festered and there had been a day or two he'd been feverish. He had not worried for a second, but Marian had, though she tried to hide it with scolding him about trying to tame wild animals that could not be tamed.

_"Honestly Robin, must you try to make every animal you meet your pet?"_

_ "Not every animal. Just the ones that take a liking to me."_

_ "I'd hate to see what an animal who didn't like you would do to you."_

_ "Yes, this dog was very affectionate."_

_ "I can see."_

_ She unwrapped the bandage on his leg and gasped. Robin looked down to see that instead of the dog bite, there was a C shaped wound. A wound that had been carved out and then burnt. Marian shook her head,_

_ "I cannot care for this Robin," she warned, backing away from the bed and turning from him._

_ "Marian," he whispered._

And he vomited again, less blood this time, which he hoped was a good thing, although his bowels churned again and his head still swam.

"God damn it," he cried with as much strength as he could muster. "God let me die!"

"Don't be dramatic," a smooth voice said from the other side of the bars.

The Muslim man grabbed Robin's shoulder and helped him sit up to see.

"Who is this Marian? Is she your delirium visitor?"

Robin swallowed and coughed.

"I'm so glad you told me about her, I think she will make a good conversational topic for our next meeting."

"Don't you dare," Robin shouted, lunging forward to grab at the man's robes through the bars.

The man easily stepped back out of reach. Robin felt his mind clamp down again and his fingers begin to release and shudder.

"Ah, I see another convulsion is coming on. Kalil, I'll leave you to it."

"Ahh," Robin screamed as he thought his stomach would be torn apart and another gush of blood came from his bowels.

"God have mercy on me," he whispered, before once again the convulsion took him under.

_"Robin," Marian insisted, her hands on her hips. "It's not funny." There she was in all her fourteen year old glory, her face speckled with pimples, and her breasts scrawny._

_ "You should have seen your face!" Robin cried, holding the chicken aloft. The bird's wings flapped frantically._

_ "It's our dinner love," Robin joked, "I thought you might like to see it alive in all its glory before we eat her."_

_ "Ha ha, very funny," she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. "And I know you don't love me, so don't keep calling me 'love'."_

_ "Shows how little you know," Robin responded absently as he broke the chicken's neck and started to pluck out its feathers. _

_ "Here let me do that," she snapped, grabbing it from him._

"Marian," Robin cried in desperation as he found himself once again choking on the stone floor of his cage.

"I think you're past the worst of it my friend," the man said, passing Robin the jug of water. Robin shakily accepted it and tried to take a sip,

"No, I can't drink."

"You must, or you will die."

Robin swallowed hard and took a large drink. He coughed and choked, but swallowed all right.

"We pray together now, yes?" The man asked.

Robin nodded, and the Muslim man clasped his hands between his own and they knelt together.

When Robin woke, the man was watching him.

"I was a little worried you wouldn't wake up, but I was watching your breathing. You've been all right."

Robin sat up and leaned against the wall facing his cell mate.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it. My name is Kalil. I've heard you're Robin."

Robin sighed.

"Yes I am."

"Your name is displeasing to you?"

"No, I just don't want to face everything that comes with that name when I go home, after what has happened here."

"I see. Yes, you will find that you have changed forever, but not as much as you would think."

Robin nodded morosely.

"Do not be so down, my friend. Tell me about this Mar-ee-ahn."

"Marian."

"Yes, you not only called her name in your delirium, but during your sleep as well."

"She's my fiancée."

"Yes, and?"  
"And we've known each other since she was fourteen, I was sixteen. Four years. I've been away from her for almost four months now. I've had one letter."

Kalil nodded. Robin looked into his eyes and found them a deep, comforting black.

"And you? Do you have a family?"

Kalil smiled and shook his head.

"I used to. Ten years ago I was married with two children. They all became lepers. I went with them into their colony and watched them all die one by one."

"I'm sorry."

Kalil shrugged, "It was ten years ago. I remember them and dream of my wife always, but I am no longer sad. Time passes, and you cannot help but forget a little."

"I don't want to forget Marian."

"Well don't despair my young friend. You may yet get out of here and return to her."

Robin scoffed and lay back down.

"Is it still night?" He asked.

"I have no idea," Kalil replied. "Day begins when Fahad and the other torturers return for their day's work."

Robin sighed.

"Tell me a story about Marian."

Robin smiled, "What would you like to hear?"

"Whatever you were dreaming about a moment ago."

Robin laughed, "It's a bit embarrassing that story."

"Believe me, I have seen it all."

"Yes, I believe you have. Well, I was thinking about the first time Marian and I made love."

"Oh, that has got to be a good one."

"Yes. It was her seventeenth birthday."

"Oh, to be seventeen again."

_"Robin are you sure no one comes down here?" Marian hissed as Robin led her by the hand into a little glen nestled into a hill side, a wide, wide oak tree supporting the earth of the hill behind it. It was like a nook especially designed for them, Robin thought, knowing Marian's obsession with secrecy. _

_ "I don't understand why there's such a big secret about us, Marian," Robin said, an edge of annoyance creeping into his voice, which he heard and tried to check._

_ "It's not for your sake, Robin."_

_ "Well never mind that, what do you think?" Robin spread his arms wide in the little space, he scarcely had room to do it without brushing hillside or tree._

_ "It's beautiful Robin."_

_ "So are you," he whispered, and sidled up to her._

_ "Stop that," she smiled and pushed him back._

_ "What?" He asked, unmoving._

_ "Stop being so charming. I'm here you know, you don't need to persuade me."_

_ "I'm not persuading you."_

_ She laughed once and took a step back, "Just let me catch my breath."_

_ "Are you sure then? It doesn't have to be today."_

_ "But it has to be some day, why not today?"_

_ "It doesn't have to be any day, Marian."_

_ "Believe me; I want this as much as you do."_

_ And as if this sentence gave her courage she stepped back into his arms, her hands clasped behind his neck. _

_ "I love you Robin, I do."_

_ "Why have you never said so before?"_

_ Marian shrugged, tears filling her eyes._

_ "I guess I thought I couldn't stand saying that and then you leaving me someday."_

_ "I'm not going anywhere."_

_ "I know, I know, I know, I know."_

_ "Say it again," Robin challenged, grinning._

_ "What?" _

_ "I…love…you."_

_ Marian laughed, her hands going to her hips, squaring off._

_ "Oh is that how you're going to be is it? Fine, I love you." _

_ She shouted, "I love you Robin of Locksley!"_

_ "Shh, keep your voice down," Robin shushed, looking around._

_ "Now who's being secretive," Marian leaned up and nipped his bottom lip._

_ "You know this isn't a game to me, right?" Robin asked, trying to hold Marian at bay as her hands explored his body._

_ "Me neither," she hastily murmured. _

_ "I'm serious," he said._

_ "So am I," she returned, while drawing her hand up his inner thigh._

_ "No, Marian," he pushed her back a second. _

_ "I have something I want you to see." _

_ Marian raised an eyebrow._

_ "I promise, you won't have to wait for my amazing skills as a lover much longer."_

_ Marian laughed as Robin tugged at her hand to bring her closer to the tree. _

_ She smiled, bringing her hands up to her cheeks as she saw what he pointed to in the tree trunk._

_ She traced the R and the M and the heart and the arrow. _

_ As she turned back to Robin her eyes were shining with tears again as she leapt into his arms. _

_ "Oh God," Marian breathed, clinging to him. _

_ "Do you like your birthday present?"_

_ She nodded, grinning, and jumped out of his arms. _

_ "You may undress me Robin of Locksley," she joked haughtily._

_ "Thank you my lady," he bowed and then tackled her to the ground with a laugh._

_ They continued to laugh as they struggled out of their nightclothes, but as Marian lay naked beneath him, a hush fell. Father in Heaven, he thought, make me worthy of her. Her skin was even paler in the darkness, in the half-light from the sliver of moon. _

_ "I'll be…" he whispered._

_ "I know," she whispered back. And he leaned down over her and it was beginning. She brought her knees up in pain as he entered her, his face buried in her neck, her hands clutching his shoulders. _

_ "Are you?" he asked._

_ "I'm fine," she said barely breathing. _

_ "Marian," he moaned and she began to breathe again as he moved as slowly as he could. _

_ "Ah," she cried in pain._

_ "I'm…" he tried to say, but could find no words._

_ She only nodded and he continued and finished a few moments later. He cautiously examined her tear-streaked, but blissful face next to him, looking at the stars. _

_ "Was that all right?" He asked, looking away, up at the sky above him. _

_ Marian laughed, "I think it certainly deserves another try." _

_ He frowned, "That bad? I'm so sorry I was trying the best I could. You know, it's not as if I know what I'm doing either…"_

_ Marian placed a hand over his mouth, "Robin, it was wonderful. Now, are you ready to go again?"_

_ Robin sighed, "If we absolutely have to."_

_ He moved to get up, but Marian pushed him back down,_

_ "You're perfect where you are."_

_ And she lay down on top of him. He sighed with contentment as her breasts pressed against his chest and her hips aligned with his. And he thought how he will feel this way for the rest of his life. _

_ She straddled him and lowered herself onto his cock._

_ "Marian?"_

_ "Shh, I'm enjoying this."_

_ "Marian?"  
"What?"_

_ "I want to marry you."_

_ She paused._

_ "You're serious aren't you."_

_ Robin looked away._

_ "Are you asking me?"_

_ "What if I was?"_

_ Marian sighed, and covered her face with her hands._

_ "Marian what is it?" She tried to scoot away but he sat up and held her in place._

_ "I don't know."_

_ "About what?"_

_ She shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks._

_ Robin grabbed her by the shoulders, his fingers gripping her arms._

_ "Don't know about what," he demanded, shaking her. _

_ "Why are you doing this now?"_

_ "Why not now?"_

_ "If it's the right time for you it must be the right time for everyone, that's always the way it is with you, isn't it?"_

_ "Why not now?" He grabbed her harder._

_ "You're hurting me."_

_ He let her go and stood up. She stood as well._

_ "Robin, I do love you but you ask too much of me sometimes. This is one of those days. I may live on your lands but I am not your property."_

_ "You will be."_

_ Marian slapped him across the face. He brought his arm up and smacked her to the ground. She looked up at him, holding her head where it had hit the earth. There were no tears in her eyes now._

_ "Marian, I'm so…"_

_ "Save it." She stood and brushed herself off._

_ He grabbed for her hand._

_ "Don't touch me."_

_ She stormed off into the night. Robin followed ten paces behind her. She never turned but at the door of her aunt's house, she whispered,_

_ "Good night."_


	6. Chapter 6

"But you said she was your fiancée," Kalil said. "That didn't sound like a successful offer of marriage."

"No it was not, my friend," Robin laughed and Kalil joined in.

When they stopped laughing Robin continued, "No, I proposed to her again a year later. She was much more receptive the second time."

_Marian was washing her clothes in the washtub in the front lawn of the manor house. Her hair kept falling into her face and she kept brushing it back with her wet hands, sending little droplets of water flying, sparkling, scattering rainbows in the sunlight. Robin was sitting on the ground a few feet away, watching._

_ "Stop staring at me," she ordered imperiously. _

_ "I'm not staring."_

_ "Good God Robin of Locksley, don't you have anything important to do instead of watch me wash my clothes?"_

_ "Not today."_

_ She raised her hand to cover her eyes and squinted down at him. _

_ "Marian," he pronounced. He stood, walked to her, took her wet hand and sank down to one knee._

_ "Oh no," she muttered. "Seriously Robin get up."_

_ "Marian, I still love you. Even though you are sometimes the most annoying person I have ever met."_

_ "You know you should win a prize for these performances."_

_ "I'm not finished. Will you let me finish?"_

_ Marian pursed her lips but took her hand back and crossed her arms._

_ "Marian you have been my best friend for four years, my sweetheart for two, and my lover for one. I can think of nothing else but a future with you. And I am tired of waiting to start it. I am tired of waiting for you. I want you Marian, nothing else."_

_ She nodded seriously, and knelt down in front of him. _

_ "I will say yes if you ask me," she whispered jokingly in his ear. _

_ "Marian of Knighton, will you be my wife?"_

_ "Yes I will." _

_ Robin reached into his pocket and brought out the silver band he had been told was his mother's. _

_ "And will you wear this ring?"_

_ "Yes I will."_

_ He slipped it onto her finger and sighed, tears coming to his eyes._

_ "You're crying," she said in wonder._

_ "I thought you would say no."_

_ She wrapped her arms around him and held the back of his head. _

_ "If you had actually asked me last year, I wouldn't have said no then either."_

"How ever could you leave her?" Kalil asked.

"I don't know."

"Robin," the guard called out. His name was Kahim. All the guards seemed like old friends now, though Robin wasn't sure exactly how long he'd been there.

"Visitor for you."

"I'm allowed visitors?"

"Fahad allowed this one. I expect you'll see why."

And Robin watched a beautiful woman dressed in high French fashion float down the block. She ignored the whistles and calls from the men that she passed by. And by the set of her shoulders he recognized Laena.

He stood grasping the bars of his cell waiting for her. She continued walking until she was just an inch from the bars. She leaned in and kissed him.

"There, we are lovers. It is no longer a lie. My name is Antoinette when I visit here, understood?"

Robin blinked at her in confusion.

"You look awful Robin. I've heard about your torture. I'm very sorry, I'm very sorry I ever told you about Christian. Most of all I'm sorry you ever came to the Holy Land."

"It's not your fault, Laena. It doesn't matter now anyway."

"It should matter. After the letter I've received for you."

Robin looked up, excitedly, gripping the bars more tightly.

"It's from the Lady Marian. I haven't read it, don't worry, it's yours and yours alone."

She handed it to him through the bars, along with a pencil.

"For you to write back to her. I'll be back the same time next week. I've arranged this as sort of a conjugal visit you might say."

Robin laughed shortly. It was all he could do not to tear the letter open right then and sink into Marian's words.

"Listen Robin, the king doesn't care about the ransom for you they've asked for, no one does. But there may be a chance for prisoner exchange. If there is, I'll make sure your name is the first Richard hears."

"Thank you."

It was the first time he had seen her in Western dress and the effect was startling. For one, he could see her hair. It was a dark chestnut brown, wrapped in a knot at the back of her head. And her dress was low cut as the fashion demanded, but she had fashioned panels over the top of the bodice, Robin knew what they concealed of her identity. Her eyes after all this time alone apart from his beloved seemed more like Marian's than ever.

"I will leave you to your letter. I would have come sooner but Richard had forbidden anyone to come visit you who would identify you as one of his men. I finally convinced him that I only had everyone's best interests at heart, including yours."

"And how did you _convince_ him?"

"I don't see why you care. Don't think of falling in love with me because I'm doing my Christian duty visiting the imprisoned. There's your love, take care of her," she tapped the letter clutched in his hand.

"Good bye Robin."

"Good bye…" he struggled for the name.

"Antoinette," she spat back bitterly.

As soon as he saw Kahim escorting her out, he tore the letter open. And there was page upon page of Marian's impatient handwriting.

_My love,_

_ I think you wrote back those twelve lines just to spite me for being so brief. I see now with you thousands of miles away we cannot play the games we used to, teasing, laughing, baiting, and above all never saying how we really feel. Because all I felt was that you were so furious with me perhaps you would never come back. I am writing this letter the day I received yours, and I have Will Scarlett to run it to Nottingham with the next shipment of soldiers that leaves tomorrow. _

_ It is nothing without you here. All the people love me. Thornton has helped me immensely manage the house, and after watching you handle the land and people for four years I can manage well enough. No one has given me any trouble, they are all so eager for you to return. Nearly every day someone asks me whether I have heard from you, and I become more and more frightened that the reason I have not heard from you is that you are dead, instead of anger or hurt pride. _

_ We had an excellent harvest but I can feel a terrible winter coming on. There was frost on the ground this morning, the grass crunched as I walked through it to milk the cows. You know I have always worked hard alongside you, alongside our people. But this is something I have never experienced before and I feel my body hardening. My hands are rough, nearly as rough as yours, and my face got very dark over the summer. I do not know you would recognize me if you returned tomorrow._

_ Oh and every day Robin, every day I hope that you will suddenly be riding down the path from Nottingham. Or that some morning you will surprise me at our bedroom door. Please prove me right, Robin; please come home some day soon. Please already be on your way home and never receive this letter. Please let it reach Jerusalem after you have already left it. Your bed stopped smelling of you long ago. When I work in the fields and at the carpenters or the dairy I wear your clothes. Don't laugh. I know you're laughing. I especially like that one green shirt you hated so much. I think it looks better on me than it did on you. I imagine they still smell like you even though they do not. I think I could smell you from a mile away now, so perfectly I have remembered you. _

_ I have gone down to our tree several times to lie there where you first ridiculously asked me to marry you. I can't help wondering what would be different if I had said yes and not been the intolerable know-it-all that I was. We would already be married, and I might have a little baby Robin to comfort me. There was a moment I thought I might have been pregnant after you left, foolish, I know, but I hoped for it. And Thornton's wife Daisy somehow caught on and told all the villagers. They treated me like a queen, then, saying I carried the future lord of their home. They realized soon enough though that I was not. I didn't even try to convince them I wasn't; I wanted to believe along with them as long as I could. _

_ You must come back. I love you._

_ Marian_

Robin eagerly read it again.

"What did she write to you my friend?"

"She writes that she still loves me," Robin said with exuberance, still pouring over the letter.

"And what else does she write?"

"It's hard for her. It is hard at home. She writes that I may find her different when I come back."

"See, you are not the only one who will have changed."

Robin nodded grimly.

"She encloses an extra sheet of parchment, for me to write back. But what can I tell her of?"

"Write to her as if she will read it in three minutes instead of three months."

He curled up on his blanket and began to write. The blanket had been a reward for his last session with Fahad. They had taken his arms behind his back and lifted him up by his bound hands, a torture as old as the book. He did not cry out once until after one of his shoulders had dislocated and they had brought him down. In six months he had learned mind control and now he did not utter a word. He just ceased to be.

_Dearest Marian,_

_ Yes, my twelve line letter was a test, and a stupid one I see now. I'm sorry I caused you a second of doubt or fear because I am, as ever, yours. _

_ As to you thinking that you are aging and ugly from your hard work, how could you say such a thing? You are working for me, for us, which can only make you more beautiful. I can hear you mocking me and laughing when you read this but it is true to me. Furthermore, you are so incredibly beautiful, so lovely, that it might be nice to have that lessened a bit. I could stand to have fewer men staring at you and trying to catch your eye. And there would be fewer people saying, why is he with her. (That was to make you laugh, I know how rakishly handsome I am, you don't need to tell me.) _

_ I am sad there was not a baby in some ways, because some days I feel like I may die here, and I want us to have had or to have a child. But for you I am glad there was not because we are still not yet married; though in the eyes of Locksley we may be, in the eyes of England we are not. And what kind of half-life would that be for our child?_

_ I pray this letter reaches you because I cannot stand the thought of you doubting my love, or thinking somehow that I am still here because I want to be, or because being home with you is somehow less important to me than so-called eternal glory. There has never been a more terrible lie-there is no glory here of any kind. If there was any possible way I would be leaving to come home to you tomorrow, believe me when I say I am trapped here, but that I __will__ return to you. _

_ An interpreter named Laena is handling my letters for me. She is the most trustworthy person I know here, so know that what we write each other is in safe hands. I have met a Muslim man named Kalil who has become dear to me. He listen patiently to all my stories of you. You are my only prayer for salvation, Marian. Do not give up on me._

_ I love you,_

_ Robin_


	7. Chapter 7

"Antoinette," Robin called out as Laena came into view, "So good to see you!"

The guard unlocked his cell and he ran and embraced her and spun he raround. She smiled and nodded vaguely and Robin stepped back to look at her before he swooped her up into an alarmingly good kiss.

"They've let us have a room for the afternoon, isn't that nice my dear?" Robin asked.

"Yes thank you," Laena murmured bewilderedly.

"Come," Robin pulled her by the hand with the guard leering after them. He led her to one of the small torture rooms. Robin had seen them all by that point, and he had been granted the one for water torture, which was cooler than the rest of the sweltering claustrophobic rooms.

"Robin what is?" She asked as soon as he shut the door.

"It's a reward. They're giving me a more-satisfying-conjugal visit so we have a few hours."

"Oh." Laena looked at her surroundings.

"She turned with a playful smile, "Well we _could_…"

"No," Robin shook his head.

"All right," Laena agreed seriously, and sat down leaning against one of the vats for water, empty now. She sighed and began to take down her hair.

"Let me do that," Robin offered and moved to sit beside her. He withdrew a few pins and soon the whole dark mass came tumbling down. With her head turned it could be Marian's chestnut hair in his hands. He began to run his fingers through it, working out tangle by tangle. He began to massage her neck and shoulders. She sighed with contentment and he realized the way he was caressing her face and neck. And how tempting she with her tumbled down hair was. He patted her on the back and moved away. She composed her face and then turned to him.

"How is Much?"

"He's great. Misses you and worries about you constantly. I tell him as much as I can about what is happening to you, not that there's much to go on. Why won't you tell me what is happening to you here?"

"Because if I say one word I think I will say a thousand and I cannot tell you these things. I cannot tell anyone these things."

Laena crawled to sit next to him. His eyelids were drooping and he shook himself to stay conscious. She ran a hand through his hair. He shot her a warning glance and she smiled though her green eyes were sad.

"This is as your friend. Can you accept my arms for that?"

Robin nodded meekly as a little boy and slid down so his head was in her lap, his arms wrapped around her legs.

"I am much like her, the Lady Marian. Am I right?"

"Yes."

"I am sorry about that. I can see that it haunts you at times."

"It's not your fault."

"I had someone like Marian once. He was an African."

"What happened to him?"

She paused, "I left him." Robin said nothing.

"And that is why I am nothing like your Marian."

She stroked his back and felt his body turn into the comfortable weight of sleep.

She had seen from the moment he laid eyes on her that she conjured up ghosts for him. She knew the sanctity of the two kisses they had shared was not for her but oh how she desperately wanted to steal it. But if he meant his promise that he would take her to her home, or to England if she chose, she did not want to lose that promise.

Soon Kahim knocked on the door and called, "Time's up," but didn't come in.

"Robin wake up," she whispered and rubbed his back harder. He stirred and sat up.

"I have a letter for you. I'll give it to you now out of their sight."

She took Marian's letter out of her pocket and placed it in Robin's waiting hands. One more letter safely home, she thought. They parted with a quick embrace and Laena couldn't help thinking as she left the palace that she smelled like him.

_Dearest Robin,_

_ When you receive this letter you will have been gone for a whole year, and, as promised, I have lived through a year without you. I hope against hope that you will keep your word and I will find you walking down the lane towards me on my 19__th__ birthday. I feel much older than 19._

_ Things are bad here. I know the Sheriff is intercepting and searching the mail as well as any cargo that goes to the Holy Land. See, Sheriff, I was telling the truth, Robin and I do not have a secret code. The coded letters are by someone else. Now run along and investigate!_

_ As you may have gathered, my father has been relieved of his post so he has come to live at Locksley with me. Your people are, as always, loyal to you and loyal to me in your stead. But the winter was hard as I predicted and all things point to this becoming a drought year. And there is no way any of us can possibly pay the taxes the Sheriff is exacting. The Sheriff has been spying on me, accusing me of disloyalty, thinking I am part of some political intrigue. If political intrigue means speaking out about injustice being done, then yes, I am guilty._

_ I miss you. I am also angry with you for not coming home. Sometimes when I think I cannot contain it any longer I go down to our tree and scream at you for abandoning me. I don't usually feel any better. Last night I dreamed of you. The kind of dream that used to make me blush but now they are all I can rely on to hold on to you. If I have hardened in this past year it has only made me love you more, and with more determination. Come back to me, when you can._

_ Marian_

There was no enclosed parchment but it didn't matter, because all he wanted to do was hold her, to run home to her and hold her. He sank to his blanket and wept.


	8. Chapter 8

A week later Robin stood in the large anteroom before all the torture doors and faced Fahad. They were alone.

"Today we will not be continuing with your torture."

"What?"

"You have performed admirably. I now have a new use for you."

"And what will that be? Now I'm to torture the new prisoners, is that it? Murder some of my own kinsmen?"

Fahad laughed, "Oh no. Today you begin a new form of torture."

"New tortures?"

Fahad nodded.

"Before, you never obeyed me, you fought against me with all your will. Now you will have to channel all the anger you have built up over the past year. And you will bow to me, you will follow my orders."

"I will never bow to you," Robin charged at Fahad and before his fist even met the older man's face, Fahad had grabbed Robin's hand and twisted it behind his back. Robin doubled over to avoid the pressure and Fahad kicked him to the ground, pinning him down with his foot.

"When we are finished you will be able to kill me if you wish. But until then, you will have to be patient."

Robin jumped to his feet and faced his captor.

"Now you will be weak from being underfed and not exercising. But you must fight past that. I will help you there. Now drop. And you will stop when I say you stop."

"This Marian, will you return to her?" Fahad asked, after two hours, Robin panting on his back on the floor.

"Yes," he gasped, rubbing his arms.

"I don't think you will."

Robin made a feeble lunge for Fahad and the man easily swiped him down again.

"I am _trying_ to provoke you. I thought you had learned something of mind control this past year. But apparently not. Do we need another session on the rack?"

Robin stood, "No, I'm ready."

"Then follow me. This is your test."

He led Robin into the fire room. Robin clenched his fists. This was the room he feared the most, and Fahad knew it.

There was the large fire pit, today filled with burning coals. In the middle stood a stone pillar, the top of which was about three feet above the coals, and about a foot wide.

"Up, up, what are you waiting for?" Fahad asked.

Robin blanched but stood on the edge of the fire pit judging the distance. Three steps on the coals, he thought, two steps if he planted it right.

"Go," Fahad thundered, holding his branding iron aloft. Robin leapt from the edge, and in three steps had climbed onto the top of the pillar.

"Now you stand."

"What?"

"You stand. And I watch."

After ten minutes Fahad shouted for him to get onto his toes. Another ten he called for Robin to stand on one foot. Sweat poured off his face as he struggled to keep his balance. His eyes blurred from the heat as Fahad relighted the coals.

"It's too hot, I can't breathe," Robin gasped.

"Now squat!"

Robin squatted and almost lost his balance again.

"Focus!"

Robin's vision swam and suddenly he felt his head beginning to spin. At that moment Fahad aimed the branding iron and jabbed it at Robin. His instincts took over and he jumped the swing.

Fahad glared and swung again. This time Robin ducked, grabbed the iron and jerked it away and brandished it at Fahad.

Fahad raised up his hands in submission.

Robin jumped off the pillar and somersaulted in the air and as he hit the stone floor rolled off the impact.

He raced to Fahad and set the orange brand to the man's exposed neck. Fahad did not flinch and waited calmly for Robin to remove it.

"That was all flash and nerve. But you have amazing potential. Tomorrow, we begin."

"There are some really obvious things you still need to keep practicing! Watch your openings!" Fahad shouted, lunging forward with his sword.

Robin parried but lost his balance and overcompensated.

"Again with style, concentrate Robin!"

"I am," he gritted his teeth.

"Well you aren't…doing…a very…good….job," and with one flick Robin's sword went soaring across the room.

"Can we try that again," Robin asked, running to retrieve his sword.

Fahad smiled, "Of course."

"The area in front of you is divided into four quadrants and there are eight positions within it."

"I know Fahad!" Robin protested.

"Foot work drills. Forward 3, lunge 5, back 1. You need to not just react but anticipate!"

"Laena," Robin cried, embracing his friend.

"I've brought paper for you to write to Marian."

"Thanks, I'll write her back later. You will not believe what they are having me do!"

_Dear Marian,_

_ I am proving myself worthy of you now. I think I will be able to come home soon and I am dying to see you. Suddenly I am filled with hope and with that hope comes greater love and remembrance of you. I am sorry for every time I was a young, stupid boy and please, please wait for me. Just a little bit longer and I know I will be home and we will be happy. I pray to God every night again, I feel like my dark times are past and I am all right again. _

_ I love you,_

_ Robin_

Marian set his letter down on the breakfast table.

"What is it Marian?" Edward asked, concernedly.

She took a sip of her tea before speaking, "I think he's slipping away from me Father."

"Marian, I'm…"

"It's fine," she cut him off and stood.

"Marian, please, talk to me."

"What should I say? I'm stuck here awash in nothing but memories and hard work. I want to go chase after him!"

"Marian you can't…"

"I know, I know, I know, I know." Her fingers flew to her temples. She was getting a headache again.

"Will you write him back?"

"Of course I'll write him back," she snapped. "What else am I supposed to do?"

_Dear Robin,_

_ I am glad things have taken a turn for the better with you. Everything is terrible here, worse than ever. People are beginning to despair of your ever returning. It is hard for me to keep their faith in you when I myself feel you slipping away from me. And we do need you here Robin. I need you. I want to believe that you will return, but I have all the letters you have sent me bound up with twine under my mattress and I have re-read them all a hundred times and in every one you tell me that you will come home and it will be two years very soon. I have searched for someone to take your place in my heart but they are all shadows compared to you, solid and flesh in my memory. Every day I vow not to think about you as I harvest the wheat and thrash it, or churn the milk into butter. I make it all the way through the day sometimes, though it's not without effort. And then I wake sweating in the night dreaming of you. Sometimes you are making love to me, and sometimes you are dying in my arms, but you are always much realer there than anything I see during my entire day. _

_ Is it even worth it to beg you to come home to me?_

_ Marian_

"Laena she thinks she's losing me," Robin murmured, putting the letter down. Laena reached through his bars and clasped his hands in hers.

"She is, isn't she though?"

"No, never."

"Robin…"

"What?"

"If you love her at all you will tell her about this prison, and you will tell her about me."

"I can't hurt her that way."

"Robin she is managing your land! She is caring for your people! And she loves you. Show her some respect."

"I am," he shouted, jerking away from her.

"No you're not; you're just being a coward, like all the men I've known."

"You would know; you've certainly known your fair share of them."

"Yes, I have," Laena replied calmly. "And that's why I've put up with your bullshit as long as I have. You love her, I know. But have the decency to tell her what has happened to you."

"Laena…"

"You see this?" She demanded, dragging down the neck of her bodice and pointing to her scar.

"I have lived with this mark and had to tell the story to every man I have been with since. To men who have not even seen my face without its veil."

"Did you tell Imbeni?"

"You know what I chose Robin. And I thought you were ashamed of me for it."

"Kahim," Robin shouted, "Antoinette may go."

"Robin!"

"I said you can go!"

Laena slammed her hand against the bars and they rattled harshly before she turned and followed Kahim out.

"Oh my friend…" Kalil began.

"Shut up Kalil."

"All right my friend, peace," Kalil held up his hands in mock surrender, giggling.

When Robin didn't smile Kalil spoke again, "You have a lot of anger my friend. And all the work you do all day to train is not helping ease it. I think it is time for you to go home."

"You and everyone else!"

"And why not?"

Robin was silent.

"You are afraid to."

"Yes, yes I am."

The next morning there was chaos in the jail. Shouting from the guards and cheering from some of the prisoners, with large protests and cries of outrage from the others.

Robin saw Fahad approaching and reached out and grabbed the man by the sleeve as he walked past Robin's cell to the back door.

"Fahad, what's going on?"

"We've captured a bunch of your men."

Robin paled.

"Not Locksley men, I meant Englishmen. They're all being brought here which means today is a day of mass executions. And I am setting you free."

"What? I'm not ready."

"You are ready. You must be."

Robin nodded and Fahad unlocked the cell door. Robin stepped out then looked back for Kalil.

"Wait here," Fahad instructed, "I will bring you the effects you came in with."

"Well my friend," Kalil rose and approached the bars. "It has been a good two years."

"I will miss you my friend."

"Eh," Kalil doubted.

"I will remember you; that I promise."

Kalil laughed.

Robin reach out his hand and the Muslim man clasped it.

"Are you going to go home then?"

"Yes."

"You promise? You will not get lost along the way?"

"I promise, Kalil, I'm going home. Why do you care so much about me getting back to England?"

"Not England, back to her. I think you need her to be a good man."

"And what will you do my friend?"

"I was thinking perhaps go home to Cairo."

"Paradise after this hell hole."

"Yes."  
The two men stood smiling at each other.

"You know I am not going anywhere Robin?"

Robin nodded, swallowing a lump forming in his throat.

"I know Kalil."

"When we meet in Heaven I expect to hear a story of your wedding night with the beautiful Maid Marian."

"That you shall my friend."

A guard approached their cell bearing Robin's things, his dagger, his belt, and his coat. For all he knew, everything he now owned as he would set forth into the world again. Kahim turned to face Kalil.

"I am sorry my brother," the guard said, drew his sword, and plunged it into Kalil's stomach.

Robin stared in horror as Kalil collapsed to the ground, his blood seeping out around him. Kahim was already walking down the corridor, back to the cries and screams of the other prisoners, which seemed miles away from Kalil's torment before him.

"Pray with me, my friend," Kalil asked, extending his hand out of the cell. Robin grasped it and knelt down to bring it to his heart and leaned over to whisper into the dying man's ear,

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters, he restores my soul."

Kalil whispered an 'Amen'.

"He guides me in paths of righteousness for His name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil for thou art with me."

Kalil's eyes closed.

"And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever."

Robin felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Fahad waiting,

"It is time Robin."

And Fahad led Robin out through the back door, through the palace, and into the city of Jerusalem.

As soon as Fahad left Robin alone outside the palace gates, he dragged himself into a shadowed alley and clutched his head in his hands. The sun was impossibly bright; he couldn't even keep his eyes open. He had no idea where to go or what to do.

"Robin?" A voice called from the street. "Robin!"

"I'm here," he called back and Laena quickly came into view in the street, peering into the darkness for him. She was in her Muslim linen again.

"I've been waiting for you. Richard sent me to bring you to camp. As soon as he heard our men were captured he thought you might be released. I, of course, knew you would be."

"I'm not going back to camp, Laena. I'm going back to England. I will keep my promise, I will take you with me if you like."

"Robin, I…"

Her eyes cast about in the darkness helplessly.

"The King has ordered you to come. He will pronounce you a deserter if you do not and you will be accused of treason."

"But Laena I've got to go home now!"

"Shh, shh," she placed a soft hand on his face, "You will go home. I promise, just not today. Besides, you can't leave Much behind now can you?"

She took his hand and led him into the light.


	9. Chapter 9

Once more Robin stood before the King, in a different presence chamber, in a different camp.

"Ah, so this is Robin of Locksley now," the King murmured. Laena stood uncertainly between the two men. She did not know whom to stand with.

"You seem much changed, Robin," the King continued.

"I do not think so Sire. My wishes are unchanged. I would like to return to England as soon as possible."

"Yes, Laena has told me. And you will, and as soon as the next convoy leaves. But first, I'm sure Laena has told you of your mission."

"No, Your Highness."

Robin glared at Laena who shrugged, now that Robin was free he was not really her concern.

"I have a target that needs to be captured, questioned, and then possibly eliminated. Are you up to the task?"

"What target?"

Richard hesitated, "King Saladin's brother and his wife."

"No," Robin backed up, appalled.

"You would deny your King?"

"Sire, do not ask this of me."

"I do. And you will follow my order, as both your King and your Captain."

"Yes, Sire. When should I prepare to leave?"

"Tomorrow. You may bring your man Much with you, or Laena if you would prefer."

"I do not want to take Much, he does not belong in this."

"You do him wrong by saying so; he has acquitted himself well in battle."

"Still, he is my man. I would defer to Laena whether she would like to come. I can work on my own."

"I will go," Laena agreed.

"You are dismissed then. Plan your strategy, and come see me in the morning before you leave."

Laena and Robin bowed and left the tent.

"Laena, when he says questioned, he means…"

"Yes."

"Laena I can't do that to anyone."

"You have to. Think of Marian."

"I am thinking of her, that's why I can't betray who I believe myself at the core to be."

"Robin you must go home. And you must finish this."

He nodded and they separated to reunite before the break of dawn to begin Robin's second mission.

The next morning around midday, they stood outside the palace walls, waiting for Saladin's brother Achmed and his wife Ani to leave. Laena insisted that they would definitely leave to go to Mosque at midday to meet with their caliph. The longer they waited, the more anxious Robin became.

"Laena if they don't come soon we risk capture ourselves."

"They will come."

And at that moment two dark figures appeared in the shadowed doorway Robin and Laena were watching. Laena nodded at Robin and stepped in front of them.

"Please, your Graces, I crave a word of mercy with the King." She dropped to her knees before them. She was clothed as the poorest of beggars. Richard had planned to play on the husband and wife's weakness, and the requirement of their faith to give alms and aid to the needy.

Robin crept around behind them and waited.

"I am sorry poor one; we cannot help you in this matter. The King's audience or council is not something we can grant," Achmed said. However, he nodded to his wife, who then dug in her coin purse for the alms they were required to give. Robin gave Laena his own nod. At the sign she sprang at the woman and drew her knife to the woman's throat. Robin grabbed the man's arm and pinned it behind him with one hand, while holding a dagger to his back with the other.

"Come quietly, and you will not be harmed," Robin ordered, "Scream for your guards now, and my woman will kill your wife this instant."

Achmed struggled a moment, arrested by the look in his wife's eyes. He nodded.

"Very well. Now we will walk ten paces across the street. You will hold onto my arm as though a blind man, my woman will follow in a moment with your wife. We are heading to where you see two men sitting on the ground against the wall, understand?"

The man nodded again and Robin and he began to walk, Achmed indeed clutching Robin's arm hard enough to cause pain, Robin's knife clasped in his other hand, ready to strike at any moment. When they reached the two masked me sitting in the dirt, the men moved aside to reveal a cellar door. Robin swung the door open and pushed Achmed down the steep stairs into the total darkness. He dropped down himself and the door shut behind them. A moment later Laena jumped down, pulling Ani with her. Each woman held a candle lit by the guards above. As soon as Laena had lit several other candles around the cellar, she nodded for the door above to be shut. Robin waited a minute for his eyes to adjust, and then addressed the man.

"We know there is a spy among Richard's men who has been passing along information to you and your brother. What is his name?"

"I do not know," Achmed said insolently. "If you do not let us go, you will be found, and you will be executed. Think better of this plan."

"Just tell him!" Ani shouted, "Just tell him and we can go."

"He is just a boy Ani. Do not say another word."

"I will ask again," Robin said, interrupting the domestic dispute. "What is this man's name?"

"I do not know," Achmed answered again sullenly.

"This is your last chance. Who is the traitor?"

Achmed laughed mockingly, "My last chance. You're going to kill me this minute if I don't answer; I do not think that likely."

"I may kill your wife though."

Robin looked at Laena who swiftly had her knife once more to the woman's throat.

"She does not know any secrets," Achmed scoffed.

"All the more reason to dispatch with her immediately. One less witness."

Laena pressed her knife harder into the woman's skin.

"My wife like all of my people are ready to die for their faith. I wonder if you can say the same. It is a powerful gift and a powerful death. We shall be glad of that."

"I doubt it. As you wish. My name is Robin, and I will be your torturer."

Laena released Ani and dragged a chair over. Robin pushed Achmed down onto it and Laena began binding him with chains.

"Along the edge of this room lie all the oldest tools of the trade. I am not a sadist. The moment you say his name I will stop, and we will let you go."

"He lies," Achmed said to his wife, "He has told us his name and we have seen their faces, he can never let us go."

"Ah you are mistaken my friend. We will not be here to find come tomorrow."

Robin strode to the right wall and brought forward a pot of coals. He lit them with the candles.

"While that heats up, we shall be busy with other things. I will let you watch it get hotter so you can get excited about what's coming."

Robin grabbed the man's right hand.

"Is this the hand you write with?"

The man nodded.

Robin smiled, and took up his left hand instead.

"Brace the chair," he ordered Laena. And with one hand he pinned Achmed's hand down on the man's lap, and with the other he grabbed the man's smallest finger. He pulled it back.

"What is the spy's name?"

Achmed shook his head, biting his lip.

Robin jerked the finger back until he heard a snap and the man's finger dangled loosely. Achmed and his wife screamed in unison.

"I cannot permit her to scream," Robin warned. "Does she need to be gagged?"

Achmed and Ani shook their heads, Ani's hands covering her mouth.

"What is the man's name?"

Achmed shook his head, now perspiring heavily.

Robin took out his dagger and laid it at the base of the useless finger. He kept his eyes on Achmed's face as he began to push down, sawing back and forth. Achmed screamed again as Ani watched transfixed, not uttering a sound. As the last sinews snapped Achmed's scream gave way to a guttural groan.

"Are you ready to tell me? I have still only touched one finger. You will leave here with no permanent damage."

"Not on your life," he grunted.

Robin inspected the coals, and, seeming satisfied, brought them in closer.

"Normally we would increase the suspense by lowering your feet closer using a rope. But to speed things up, you will get to decide when your feet hit the coals."

Robin slipped the man's sandals off and lifted his legs in the air, stretching them out over the coals. The man instantly drew his legs back. Laena struggled to keep the chair in place.

"Hold the chair steady," Robin shouted at her.

She gritted her teeth and braced her hip against the chair, wiping sweat from her face.

"If you do that again, I will just force you. There is no reason to fight me."

Achmed laughed, but as Robin pushed down harder on the tops of the man's thighs, he reluctantly stretched out his legs over the coals and almost immediately his muscles began to quiver and shake. The man's face grew redder and redder, his breaths coming faster and faster, his feet inching closer and closer to the coals. Finally after a loud groan the heels collapsed onto the coals for a moment. The man cried out in horror and hastily lifted his heels back up.

"I will never tell you," he shouted at Robin.

"God damn you, can we please just finish this?" Robin shouted back, forcing the man's feet back onto the coals. "I need you to tell me the name!"

The man began to weep as his feet hissed and reddened and blackened and the smell of burning flesh pervaded the air.

"Robin," Laena cautioned.

"What?" He snapped.

"He will lose consciousness," Laena pointed to the man's fluttering eyes.

Robin withdrew the man's feet and placed them on the cool dirt. Achmed gasped in thankfulness.

Achmed swallowed and drew a deep breath, "The man's name is Bishop. Arthur Bishop."

Robin nodded, and strode to the stairs and knocked on the door. It was opened a crack and a head peered down. Robin whispered in the guard's ear and the door was shut again.

"He will test your story. When you have been proven true, we will set you free as promised."

Ani wiped her tears and smiled in relief and ran to her husband, cradling his injured hand in her arms. They began to speak in Arabic to each other rapidly.

Robin crossed to Laena, took her arm, and drew her into a corner.

"What are they saying?" He whispered to her.

Laena listened, and then replied, "He is saying they will be all right. He says you have an honest face, and will surely do as you've promised."

Robin nodded.

"He also says they will go to their garden…he is telling her a story of two lovers in a garden, it is a memory of theirs."

"I don't want to know," Robin shook his head.

Laena reached up to touch his face but he smacked her hand away.

"How long till he returns?"

"Richard will be awaiting news at a secure meeting place very near. It will not be long."

Laena paused, "I think our prisoner is lying."

"How do you know?"

"Because I saw his body from an angle you did not. Even through his tunic, I can see the raised scars of flogging. He is not one to be easily questioned."

Robin nodded, and raked a hand through his hair.

"What will we do?"

"What we have to."

Laena patted him on the shoulder and they sat down to wait as the husband and wife still whispered to each other, the woman now on the man's lap.

After an intermittent time in the dark, a sharp knock came to the trapdoor. Robin ran up the stairs and it was opened a crack. When Robin came back down the stairs into the candle light his expression was terrifying.

"You have lied to me. Now I cannot trust you."

"Because we were so close before," Achmed said sarcastically. Ani leapt off his lap as Robin drew nearer, his eyes very dark.

Robin leaned down in to the man's face.

"If you do not tell me the truth, I do not get to go home, and if I do not go home, I do not get to retur to the woman I love. So believe me when I promise that you will tell me."

Achmed laughed, "You are so young and so foolish…"

The bound man continued to speak but Robin did not hear him. He plunged his dagger into Ani's stomach.

"…if you think that you can…" Achmed's voice trailed off. Both men stood and watched Ani, as she seemed to fall in slow motion. True to her word she made not a sound.

"Ani," Achmed cried. His wife lifted her head to see him.

"Ani I'm sorry." She nodded, and her head dropped again.

"Ani forgive me."

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…" Robin's voice faded to a whisper as he stared blankly at the bloody blade in his hands. It was trembling.

Laena crossed to the woman. She put her ear to the woman's mouth, and then her chest.

"She's dead."

"His name is Sir Walter Green of Leicester."

Robin nodded to Achmed. Achmed closed his eyes in relief. Robin's hand plunged the dagger into now the husband's abdomen and jerked it left and right and stabbed him again and again until Achmed's shouts ceased.

"I fear…I fear no…" Robin stuttered, shakily wiping the back of his hand across her forehead, leaving a trail of blood.

"I fear no evil for thou art with me," Laena continued, placing a hand on Robin's wrist and gently taking the dagger from him and dropping it to the ground.

She took his hand and led him up into the darkness of the night. As they rushed back to camp Laena looked up at Robin's face every few paces and each time was met with the same murderous expression. Once they were inside Robin's tent and she had got the lamps lit, she saw the mask had fallen away and left a crumpled face tortured with guilt.

"Goddamn it Laena! What's happened to me?"

She was silent taking off her cape and folding it, and removing her veil from her face.

"What's wrong with me? I've become a monster."

"This is war, Robin," she reminded him.

"How can you say that? How can you pretend I didn't just slaughter two innocent people?"

"I am not pretending," she whispered but he didn't hear her.

"How can I return home after what I've done? How can anything ever be the same? How can I accept my people's love after this? How can I look them in the eye? How can I look _her_ in the eye? How can I tell her I will be her husband when I have just destroyed another woman's husband? I could never tell her what I have done here and this secret would be a cancer in our lives. I'm sorry Laena, but I can't take you away from here."

He crossed the tent to her barrel table, snatched a blank piece of parchment and her ink well from her trunk.

"Robin what are you doing? Don't write to her now, wait! Do not say things you will regret."

She watched helplessly as his pen flew across the page.

"I'm begging you, do not do this. Don't do this to her."

He signed his name and was beside her in a moment, his hands on her face.

"I thought this would be what you wanted," he said as he leaned into her and brushed his lips to her forehead.

"Not like this."

He kissed her lips this time but she did not allow herself to kiss him back. She stepped away.

"Not tonight. Tonight you say goodbye to her."


	10. Chapter 10

Robin laid awake back in his tent, and, while Much snored away, he forced himself to remember Marian for the last time.

"It's your eighteenth birthday Marian," he whispered.

"I thought you had forgotten in all of this."

"How could I forget after what you did to me last year?"

She laughed, "I was pretty brutal wasn't I?"

"Like always."

"Like always?" She cuffed him on the ear and smiled.

"No, you're gentle as a lamb," he murmured in mock seriousness.

"Honestly Robin, perhaps it will be nice to have a break from you."

"A very short one, I promise," he said sincerely.

"All right then," she agreed, tugging him closer to the bed strewn with clothes still to be packed.

"But you haven't finished packing Marian."  
"I thought perhaps _you_ could finish packing in the morning."

He smiled, lacing his fingers through hers and spinning her around under his arm. She spun into him and leaned against his chest for a moment. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply. Seduction was long past them and they expeditiously removed their clothes and were once again in each other's arms, the heat of their bodies delicious and intoxicating as always.

"What will your pleasure be this evening my Lord?" She asked, tilting her head back to grin at him.

"M'lady, this is your farewell, since you are the one who seems to doubt that I will return."

She mock pouted her hands on her hips.

"Sit on the bed," she commanded imperiously.

"Yes my lady."

He crawled onto the bed and sat leaning against the headboard.

"Are you ready my Lord?" She challenged, "Never mind, I can see you are."

She grinned and crawled up beside him, and straddled above him.

As she looked into his blue eyes the laughter died on her lips and desperation crept up from her privates into her throat and she lowered herself onto his penis. She gasped as the intimacy filled her. She didn't dare to move. Robin felt that he could see nothing but Marian's green eyes. He hoped he would never regain the rest of his sight, that these eyes would be a color wash over everything he would see forever after. He couldn't move; all he could do was look into her eyes and believe that everything would be all right, and whisper her name over and over. She rocked her hips forward once and paused, one hand holding the back of his neck, the other over his heart.

Suddenly she was hit with panic that there was not enough time, and her blood began to race and she pumped her hips faster and harder, fighting back tears as the bittersweet pain and pleasure of their joining washed over her again and again. She felt his familiar tension and release and was overwhelmed with sadness and fell upon him, beginning to cry in earnest.

He felt a familiar tug inside as he held his love in his arms, and began to rock her, cradling the back of her head in his hand.

"Don't let me go," she begged, wrapping her arms and legs around him more tightly.

"I won't, I can't."

Their bodies were still aligned, clinging to each other. After awhile Marian struggled to her knees and then got off the bed and walked to the window, her fingers going to her temples in a gesture so familiar it broke Robin's heart. In a moment she returned to bed and lay down beside him. She set to memorizing his so beautiful body. He turned to her and ran his hand up her white thigh, cupped his hand over the warm wetness between her legs, the curls above, and placed his hand over the softness of her stomach. He explored her ribs, a familiar stepping stone path for his fingers. He watched mesmerized as she drifted into a dreamy wakefulness and finally into sleep. He fell asleep relearning the texture of her hair.

When they woke it was still night and they began again, unspeaking. And then they just remained awake and silent, lying in each other's arms, waiting for the dawn.


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note- Now Guy's tale begins two years into Robin's adventures in the Holy Land. This is now the part of the prologue that I am writing. Remember, he's been basically exiled to France after his parents died. Enjoy :)

* * *

In the North of France, a large party of English nobles gathered together at the manor of La Baroness du Chatain. Torches flamed against the cold stonewalls, light shimmering off the jewels and beads on the gowns. La Baroness sat at the high table, surrounded by all the nobles waiting to begin feasting. The tables covered in steaming trays of food, deer, boar, chicken, goose, pheasant and every kind of fruit and course worthy of such noble lords and ladies.

Despite being late in her own life and having raised three sons all now with titles, Baroness Chatain loved to arrange young lovers, within their proper rank of course. Just last season, she successfully introduced Lord Harwood to Helen Midraith, a lady of considerable upbringing and inheritance.

The worthy baroness eyed her guests as they moved to sit at the long tables about the hall. There was one man in particular who desperately needed a wife, and a wealthy and landed one at that.

"Guy of Gisborne! You must let me seat you! I hear you intend to return to England now that your sister Isabella is married off. You cannot leave here without having experienced ALL that Normandy has to offer."

"Your ladyship is too kind. Really," Guy smirked. His lean face forming the closest thing to a smile in his nature, and his dark-brown hair hung loose over his brow, obstructing his eyes from everyone.

"Guy of Gisborne, you simply must not sit at this banquet unaccompanied. Ah! Voila! Catrine! Venez ici! Bien, Guy of Gisborne, this is Catrine Marvelle, daughter of the Earl of Avon from your own homeland."

Guy knew the name too well; he looked the woman before him with scrutiny. La Baroness could have done worse, he supposed. At least she had possible money. She looked healthy; her dark blonde hair tied back into small braids that wrapped around her head and her blue dress fit her well enough. Wide hips would bear sons well. Then, Guy looked into her eyes and found they returned his judging stare. Piercing brown eyes almost sparkling in the firelight both seemed to warn him and welcome him. And then, she smirked, almost half amused and half disdained.

"My lord," said she as she extended her hand. He reached to kiss it. Those eyes stirred long forgotten, vague memories, but Guy couldn't place the thought.

"Oh you need not 'my lord' him Catrine. Guy is of excellent stock. From Nottingham I believe. But no lands of his own I'm afraid. Excellent stock though. His mother was Lady Gislaine from the Therience family, noblest blood there. Now if you pardon me," Baroness Chatain left the young ones to their wooing and headed for the high table. She knew she chose well, noble blood meets wealth and land. They have no reason not to become betrothed by the end of the night.

No land. Those words stung Guy's pride. Yes, he knew it well enough, thanks to Locksley, Earl of Huntington. Guy really did not see the point of having a wife without and estate, without land. And the daughter of the Earl of Avon had little chance of actually acquiring land as a dowry, what with her parents dead and her older brother squandering it all to fund the Crusades. However, she could please him, at least for tonight.

Guy held out the chair for Catrine, and she promptly sat. "So my lord, you intend to travel to England within a fortnight, correct? Back to Nottingham?"

"Yes, that is right," Guy prepared himself for an evening of small talk and hopefully warm words to get her to his bed. "I shall be sad to leave France so soon. There is so much here to miss; the food, the countryside, the beautiful women…" his grey eyes searching for her own.

"My lord Guy, you need not pretend with me. I know your story. It is very like my own. And you could consider being shameful of some of your actions. I would not like to have mine own brother bid me off to the wealthy English nobles just so he could have pocket change to live and travel, tasting the wine and the women alike."

Her eyes caught his again, and he shivered. She knew the truth. She was smart, perhaps too smart. He did not like this wench who thought she could intimidate him. Try to shame him. No. He liked the challenge.

"My lady, you judge me harshly. If our circumstances are so similar, you'd have compassion for my state. A little kindness is all I ask for tonight," he reached to stroke her cheek, never removing his gaze from hers.

"My, you truly are desperate," her hand caught his midair. "I have dealt with too many arrogant men to be fooled by you, my lord. But you have charm to continue your charade. "

"It is no charade, the emotions you stir in me," Guy professed smirking and stroking her hand.

Catrine smiled and began to laugh. "Like a hound on the scent. I almost like the Baroness too much to make a scene against you, Gisborne. But I'll tell you what, I will give you and your intentions a chance if, in exchange, you bring me to England."

"Can a determined lass such as yourself not arrange your own voyage that you must rely on unlanded nobles like me?"

"You would understand my reason best of all. My brother will not allow me to return without a prospective husband. That was my sole purpose for my sojourn to France. To please my brother's wishes. Which is where you, the noble lacking land and in need of a wealthy wife, enter."

"But your dowry does not include land. Where would we live in our happy married life?" Guy's sarcasm stung Catrine. She knew this a problem, but really she only wanted to return to England and then rid herself of her potential suitor. Yet everything falls under the law of equivalent exchange. She knew how to lure Gisborne best.

"My dowry includes wealth and lots of it. And besides, I come from a family of landed nobles who love me very much. Some even from your home. My uncle is the Earl of Nothem. And my cousin the Earl of Stratford. And another cousin the Earl of Huntington. And another…"

"Earl of Huntington?" Guy's hand gripped Catrine's too tightly, their hands turning white from lack of blood.

"Y-yes. Ow Guy!" She forced his hand away. He only caught it up again and didn't let go, clenching it into a fist.

"Sorry. Well, I've made my decision. I give you passage to England, my dear, and you get a betrothed who must attain land. And I must meet your dear cousin in Locksley. He and I share history together."

Catrine shuddered a bit under his subdued rage. She knew his emotion although he tried to hide it. She knew the history; Robin of Locksley, Earl of Huntington, was her dearest childhood playmate and cousin. She had easily made Guy agree to take her to England and hopefully free her from her brother's power. But she feared Guy's power a bit; she remembered the gangly teen- still prideful and prone to violence- playing in the same fields of Locksley Manor. But his power was different; she should hate him. She acted like she did, and part of her truly felt that way. Yet another part was stirred by his actions, and his touch.

She loosened her hand from his, and gently placed on top of his clenched fist. She forced it open and interlaced her fingers with his. His head quickly turned to face her, and she smiled.

"Well then, my betrothed, let's toast to our channel crossing, and our bargain." He returned the smile, and gently kissed her on the cheek.

"Sweet revenge," thought Guy. "Extra sweet," and he kissed her again.


	12. Chapter 12

The din of people, the eating and the troubadours singing drowned out attempts for small talk between Guy and Catrine. She could bring herself to eat very little while Guy ate freely, as though he hadn't tasted food in days. The servants kept her goblet brimming with sweet French wine, and Guys' as well.

The more he drank, the more Guy grasped at her hands and arms and face; and the more she drank, the more she allowed him to touch her. She tried to ply him with questions about his stay in France, his sister and her marriage, and his future plans in England. He only ever responded in monosyllables. But his eyes declared his intent. He recognized the girl from many years ago.

Guy couldn't help himself. The more he drank, the more he remembered the little whelp, Catrine, running around Locksley's fields. She was dear to Robin, certainly then and most likely dearer now. Robin of Locksley, Earl of Huntington, handsome rich boy, and the man whose family stole his land- the thought of Robin made his blood boil. He would find revenge, and having his sweet cousin in his bed would make it that much more complete.

What could go wrong with his plan: take the wench to England, marry her, gain lands in Nottingham- maybe even Locksley itself, have sons, live off her wealth, all while Robin watches helpless because it's his own beloved cousin. Perfect.

"Ah! The young lovers! How we French love l'amour!" Baroness Chatain inserted herself between their chairs, hovering over them. "Do I have grounds to congratulate you yet, Guy?"

"Yes, my lady, you do. Lady Catrine and I are betrothed. We leave within the week to return to England to arrange the wedding." Guy smirked and held up Catrine's hand, kissing it to add emphasis to the arrangement.

"C'est si bien!" La Baroness kissed Catrine on the cheek. "You'll find my lord Gisborne pleasing. Like his mother, his Therience blood will make him an excellent lover, mark my words, Catrine."

Catrine blushed. "Mercie Madame."

"Oh, you must both stay here with me till you leave. The servants will prepare the chamber for you. Oh, to be young lovers!"

"The chamber? One? Baroness Chatain, surely you mean, chambers?" Catrine questioned, a hint of anxiety in her voice.

La Baroness simply laughed. "Bienvenue à la France," she laughed, walking away.

Guy pulled her close—the woman who held the key to his future. "Yes, welcome to France, my betrothed."

His lips met hers, strong and harsh at first. She closed her eyes tightly; "What have I agreed to?" she thought. She felt his lips part beneath hers as his tongue forced her own apart. He was hungry: hungry for power, for land, and now for her. She could taste the wine on his breath, his tongue exploring her mouth, his hand exploring her thigh.

She pulled away and forced a smile. His grey eyes, flaming in the dim light, glimmered with joy and lust. And then he smiled and softly chuckled. A genuine smile that made his eyes squint with happiness.

"Ma chère. I am glad I met you tonight." His hands gently traced her face, and for the first time that night, he seemed gentle and warm.

"Yes, my lord," she replied, and moved to kiss his cheek. He turned his head, meeting her lips with his own.


	13. Chapter 13

One chamber! What was that old French woman thinking! Catrine hated the thought of what was to come that night. After more wine, she and Guy had stumbled from the banquet hall, following the servants who prepared their room. Now she stood in the chamber, bending over her trunk that had been brought from her previous room in the castle. This room was far better save one thing- the man she now had to share it with.

Guy was already sitting on the edge of the bed, his black tunic loosely covering his body. He watched every movement she made, drinking it in.

She shuddered, knowing what she had to do just to return to her home. She hated being so controlled. Men had always led her life: her father, her brother, and now this man. She had made the choice to use Guy for her own ends- to get to England, ditch him, and then find Robin to help her start a life of her own in Loxley. She could control Guy, manipulate him, give him enough of what he wants to get what she wants in return. Catrine decided to play this game, inexperienced as she was.

She began unlacing the ties on the front of her dress, fumbling with each knot as her fingers shook. She could hear Guy's breathing from across the room.

He got off the mattress and walked over to her.

"May I, my betrothed?" his arms wrapped around her from behind as he breathed in her ear. His husky, warm voice sent shivers down her spine. Catrine had never been so close to any man before; her brother had seen to that by sending her to France. But she needed to keep acting the part, uncomfortable as she was.

His strong fingers unlaced the dress, a skill he had well developed through his many encounters with women before. He began kissing her neck, caressing the line from her ear to her now bare shoulder. Catrine couldn't breathe; his hands enclosed around her ample breasts, warming them with his skin.

Guy held her like this for a minute, growing harder and hungrier with each beat he felt of her heart. He had to have the woman who would restore his name.

"Guy…" Catrine whispered. Her blue dress fell from her body, leaving only her thin white shift.

"Hmm…" he moaned into her neck.

"Guy…" she said louder. "I need… I need to tell you something." He didn't pull away, only lifted his head slightly from her body. "Guy, do you know where I've been here in France?"

Guy sighed, his low voice filled with slight pain. "No, but can't you tell me later?"

"This is something… something you need to know before… we… umm… Guy, I've been living in a nunnery. My brother sent me to a convent; I've never been this close to a man. I… I don't know what I'm doing." There, she said it. She breathed freely, having told the truth. Although she gave him power over her now, she knew she could not act the part to control him.

Guy did pull away. Never before had a woman ever done this in his arms. She trusted him, willingly opening up to him, relinquishing all power. He turned her around to face him, and he saw the fear in her eyes. The same eyes that gave off sparks of anger and intelligence now begged for mercy, fighting back tears. His heart, cold with revenge and lust, warmed with pity.

"Catrine," he whispered. And pulled her close to him, hugging her as she stood there. She buried her face into the crook of his chin against his neck and wiped away the glistening tears she unwilling let slide down her cheek.

"Catrine, do you remember the May Day Fair at Locksley when we were young?"

Startled by his nostalgia, Catrine snapped back in her memory to the warm summer day. "When we danced around the Maypole, and you wanted to crown me queen, but Robin said that he should be queen cause he owned the land, and I threw my basket of wildflowers at him."

Guy chuckled; his voice reverberating deep within his muscular chest. "Yes, that day. That was the last time I saw you."

"I thought you had forgotten our history together."

"I had, until you laughed." Guy knew that using this girl was the only way to regain his land and his title, but he had to go and begin caring about her. Nay, begin to love her. He moved his hand along her spine, gently tracing shapes along her back.

She sighed and began kissing his neck, his ear, his chin, his cheek, and finally his lips. Her fingers gripped into his tunic, and she pulled him closer to the bed. Guy was surprised, only moments ago she trembled at the idea of being in bed with him. Her kisses deepened, and her finger ran through his hair, along his back and began tugging at his leather pants.

"You're sure about this?" he panted. In response, her hands pushed the tunic up off his firm body and off his shoulders, kissing each inch of his body as the fabric pulled away, and sighing, "yes," with each kiss.

Naked, Guy pulled her down onto the bed, tugging at her shift. Catrine laughed with the power she discovered, glancing at his arousal. He propped himself up on an elbow, pulling her closer, and she hovered over him, her golden brown hair draping over him.

Then with one tug, Guy pulled her onto him, and she let out a squeal of joy and surprise. He rolled her over and tickled her neck with his breath. His hands wandered their way to the bottom of her shift, caressing her leg and her thigh as he removed it. She tensed with this new sensation; he kissed her innermost thigh and then even higher. His fingers played with her, entering her vagina, slowly at first. And then she felt a moment of pain.

"Shhh, it's alright," Guy comforted. His fingers then travel to the very height of her thighs, moving in circles. Never before did she experience these sparks of pleasure, warmth spread from her womanhood into her very core. And then she felt his tongue.

He kissed and licked her clit, and with each movement, she felt spasms of pleasure-filled tension. Her hips rocked up uncontrollably, and she knotted her fingers in his raven hair. The tension grew from her spot and consumed her every muscle; her back arched in pleasure as waves of heat and tension passed along her body. Her breath came heavily as she felt her shift being pulled off entirely. She looked up as she raised her head to see a kind half-smile over his face.

"Better than being in a convent, huh?" he chuckled. His full weight pressing into her, he kissed along her neck to her breasts, and she felt his erection pressing between her thighs, still hot from before. She vaguely knew what to expect next, but she couldn't fight the yearning for that pressure within her again.

He lifted himself onto his elbows, wrapping his hands around her shoulders. He sucked in his breath in surprise; her hands wandered down his torso, gently grabbing him, guiding him between her thighs. He felt that he filled her, and gently thrusted deeper. Deeper and deeper, quicker and quicker- Catrine sighed and moaned with pleasure. Her fingers traced along his back, clawing into him at moments of highest pleasure.

"mmm… faster," she moaned. And faster he thrusted, feeling her vagina tighten around him, her hips rocking with each thrust. Then she arched her back, and he felt every muscle tingle with pleasure; his orgasm followed immediately.

They lay trembling together; Guy rested his forehead on hers and stroked her hair. He stayed within her for a while as he gazed into those startling brown eyes, eyes now filled with love.

She also saw the warmth and love in his grey eyes; eyes so often cold now glowed with his deepest affection for her. He pulled out and lay beside her; she cuddled into his side, resting her hand on his sculpted chest.

He knew she was feeling each beat of his heart, and with each beat, he fell more and more in love with this woman. She likewise forgot her memory of a gangly teen that terrorized her cousin. Instead she drank in this man, the love of her life.


	14. Chapter 14

"What am I doing?" Catrine thought. A week had passed since she struck her bargain with Guy: a marriage for a trip home. She felt her reason slipping from her every moment she spent with Guy; with every kiss, she lost her conviction to use him merely to gain her freedom.

She sat on the bunk in the cabin of the ship. The ship had left the port of Le Havre not two hours ago. She realized as she watched Guy leaning over the ship's rail that she loved him too much; she couldn't wait till they reached England for their wedding.

"I've forgotten," she thought. "This is a bargain first, a marriage second, and Guy must be expendable- a means to an end." She closed the cabin door, locking it from the inside. "He'll come looking for me. I need to distance myself. I simply have to stop caring."

She dwelled on how she would meet her brother in London first; how is pudgy round face would peel back into a grin. He'd easily give his blessing once he accepted the fact that she was no longer at the French convent. And Guy can be very persuasive. She only needed his blessing, and her dowry money. Then on to Nottingham to meet Robin and regain the portion of it once known as Gisborne. Then she would free herself from men, by any means necessary. She regretted now choosing Guy. Choosing him and now falling in love with him.

She startled out of her thoughts at a knock at the cabin door.

"Catrine. Why is the door locked? Are you alright?" Guy's deep voice encompassed her wholly.

"I'm fine, I just need to rest. Too much sun and too many waves."

"Then let me in to take care of you, my love." He began forcing the door, trying the lock. "I'm sure I can make your aches and pains go away. There must be some way to have you forget," he chuckled through the wooden planks.

Not what she needed. She could take care of herself; no man was necessary. She could live alone, and very happily.

"But would you be truly happy alone?" Guy's voice asked her in her mind. Her hands gripped her head, as though she could rip him out.

"I'm going to get you water and something to eat; you'll feel better then," Guy's voice echoed through the door. His footsteps sounded away from the cabin.

Catrine breathed. Alone. Hungry. Thirsty. So she just listened to her heart beat. And remembered lying next to Guy feeling his heart beating too.

She sighed and felt the ache between her thighs.

Guy walked up to the door again, he knocked, but there was no answer. She must have fallen asleep.

"I've worn her out, keeping her up late into the night." He felt proud of the pleasure he gave her each time they had lain together. But she had become far more than that to him. She had her own power that drove her, and he knew it. It intrigued him how she deliberately tried to not rely on him.

"She's so deeply stirred by me, so madly in love with me. She must be overwhelmed by her own passion." He thought to himself about each time they made love, violent, passionate and yet somehow tender.

"Catrine, get up my love; I have your food and drink," he spoke, knocking on the cabin door loud enough to wake her.

Though she wasn't asleep, Catrine played along and walked over to the door. She unlocked it, opened it a crack and peeped out. She took the tray from his hands, shoved him away, and locked the door again. "There," she thought. "I'm fine on my own."

Guy staggered back in shock. What a confusing woman! She locks him out for love of him, he brings her food, and she steals it from him? This will not do.

"The two day voyage to London will be very long for you alone in the cabin, Catrine. If you won't let me in, then I won't let you out."

"You wouldn't dare!" Catrine yelled through the door. Guy could hear her just on the other side.

Catrine hear movement and then a thud. She realized he sat in front of the locked door.

"Damn." She cursed at him.

"Not a very lady-like vocabulary, my love. When you're ready to leave, you can let me in first." His low voice called out, taunting her.

She threw herself on the thin mattress on the bunk. Trapped. Her thighs ached again. And her heart longed to feel his heartbeat again.

"Damn," she cursed again, and lightly got off the mattress and snuck to the other side of the door. She gently pulled back the lock, and then forcefully flung open the door. Guy crashed backwards into the room as the door swung open.

"Now you're in. And now I'm heading out." She grabbed his hand and helped him up. Then she kissed him hungrily, moving his hand between her thighs.

Guy squinted his eyes, a bit confused by everything that just happened.

"I've missed you, Guy. But first, I'd like to look at the sea." Catrine led Guy up the stairs and to the Starboard rail. He wrapped his arms around her, like the first time he held her that first night. She watched as the waves would rise and fall, crashing along the ship. A strong wave checked the couple's balance, Catrine stumbled forward nearly over the rail. All she saw was blue water. But Guy held her tightly to keep her from flying overboard and pulled her back into him.

Catrine was glad she wasn't alone at that moment.


	15. Chapter 15

Guy woke up in the ships small bunk with Catrine in his arms. Two days passed quickly with the sun, the waves and the lovemaking. He gently moved out from under her sleeping form, step quietly to the floor, and stood to watch her sleeping. She looked so peaceful, her blonde hair draped over her chin, her hands cuddled into her breast, her lips curled into a subtle smile.

He sighed and left her sleeping, walking out into the early morning mist on deck. The ship sailed closer and closer to London along the Thames River. He had last been here years ago, fleeing the country with his young sister after the terrible accident that had left them orphans. London now promised hope to Guy; with his soon-to-be wife, he would own land once more. And who know what else? Prince John assumed the role of Regent while Richard was off fighting damned Turks in the Holy Land. Unlike his elder brother, Prince John paid out power to the highest bidder and those who pleased him, or so Guy had heard in France. He had waited years for this opportunity to come. And it had, in the form of a sleeping woman down below.

Guy sighed; he had grown so in love with her, so addicted to her. She exploited her freedom while still clinging dearly to him- such a paradox. She, more often than not, confused him. Sometimes even scared him, but no matter what she threw at him, Guy always felt inseparable from her. She was different from any other woman he had met; he could forgive her anything.

"You left me," Catrine pouted, "And I was cold." She had wrapped a quilt around her.

Guy sighed, "Forgive me, my love." She walked over to him and stood beside him, looking at the scenery along the riverbanks. The fog swirled loosely over everything as they stood together for a while.

Then the mist lifted, and houses began to line the river edge. Smoke leaked out from the chimneys, billowing into the sky. Soon London's great buildings packed together along the banks, and Catrine stared in awe at the castle, whose impressive white stonewalls shined in the morning light downstream. The crew on the boat began making preparations to dock somewhere in London's many wharfs.

Catrine ran below to finish getting ready. She had loved London in her childhood; the walls and smoke, the shops and gardens, and mostly the palaces. She laced up her demure brown dress; it was sensible and hid London's dirt and grime. She set her hair into place, and sprinted up the stairs to watch the ship dock. Guy was simply standing at the top of the stairs, doing exactly that. The men threw thick lines to each other, scampering to every side of the ship as she came alongside the dock.

Guy grabbed Catrine's hand to lead her down the gangplank and over to two magnificent horses, both equally black as the night.

"These will lead us around London. I bought them for a steal of a price, really. One strong stallion and one fair filly." Guy patted the male on the neck. He had chosen well, Catrine thought as she stroked the mare. The mare's muscles flexed under her touch and she snorted a feisty warning. Catrine laughed to herself. Perfect.

They mounted their horses, and told the crew to send their trunks ahead to the Purse and Arrow Inn. Now to find Antoine, Earl of Avon.

"Where will we find your charming brother?" Guy asked.

"Assuming he hasn't changed his habits over the last five or so years, Antoine will be taking his lunch at the Black Gull Inn, next to the Abbey of Westminster. Then he'll go the palace to lick Bishop Longchamp's ass and hand him over portions of the Avon fortune to fund this damned Holy War." Catrine let her anger go in a forceful grunt that stopped her mare in its tracks.

Guy halted his horse along side her. He understood hating the Crusade. That war stole his father from him, to fight and to ultimately die. He reached for her hand; Catrine knew his own hatred for the war as well. His hand felt warm; it calmed her, composed her, and gave her strength.

She began to laugh, deep and resounding. "I just can't wait to see his face when he sees me: not in France, not in a convent, and with a man on my arm to claim my share of the fortune! Hahahaha! The fat bastard deserves it. Nay, I deserve it."

They kicked their horses, and lead them to the imposing front of Westminster Abbey. They dismounted at a stable in the street, tying their horses to the beams of the fencing. Catrine tried to straighten her dress; not in London's mucky streets for an hour yet, and already mud and filth stained her hem. "Damn," she muttered.

"Catrine, you swear more than some men I know," Guy chastised.

"Damn them then!" Catrine quipped back, and started walking to the two daunting bell towers of the Abbey. Guy followed and caught her hand again, pulling her to a halt just outside the abbey doors.

"Here. I got you this in Le Havre. Thought it would help convince your brother." He held a polished silver ring in his bare hand. The ring had leaves and pink rose flowers interlaced together along the top. He grabbed her left hand, and slipped the ring on the proper finger. She moved in to kiss him. So thoughtful, she would surely convince her brother to give her her dowry money, especially with Guy as her "husband." How could he stand against their united front? Lord and Lady Gisborne.


	16. Chapter 16

"That's him," Catrine quietly pointed out, indicating a man walking towards the Black Gull Inn. Catrine's brother waddled more than walked; his rotund waist rolled with him each step he took. He dressed in the most ridiculous fashion- a giant waistcoat of red velvet and lilac trimming that tried to hold in his massive girth. Every tenth step or so, Antoine would stop to adjust his trousers which were far too small to contain his fat.

Guy tried with all his strength to not burst out laughing at this ridiculous man. "You're related to THAT?" he joked.

"Unfortunately, yes. And THAT is what will give us our fortune, my dear. This will be more than easy."

"So, we just walk up to him, you say, 'Look, brother mine. I've a husband-to-be!' I shake his hand, and then he hands us the money? He must be stupider than I thought."

"Just follow my lead, my love. And if worse comes to worst, I'm carrying your baby, my dear." Guy gave her the most peculiar look. It was almost too perfect, especially since she could very well be telling the truth with that "lie."

She looked at the heavy ring on her left hand, heavy from the metal and the promise that went with it. Guy offered her his arm, and they walked over to the inn arm in arm, Catrine resting her left hand on her right, placing her ring in full view for her brother.

Entering the inn, the innkeeper walked up, wiping his grimy hands on his apron. "Welcome 'ere, mi' lord and mi' lady. Can I 'elp you?"

"I need to speak with Sir Antoine Marvelle on a matter of business; pray, where is his table?" Catrine asked in the smoothest voice, passing the innkeeper a haypenny.

"Mi' lady is most insistent. Sir Antoine is in a private room in the back. I'll take 'ee there."

They followed the man through the crowded room to a door in the back corner.

"Through 'ere," the keeper walked away, wiping his nose on his sleeve. Catrine reached up to push the door open; Guy saw her hand shaking as she did so. He caught it and helped her push the door open. She smiled him her thanks.

At a large table sat Catrine's even larger brother. The table was stacked with turkey and steaming pots of gravy and vegetables and many glasses of ale. When he saw this sinister man and woman, he immediately spat out the food in his mouth. "Private party for one. Get out or I'll cut you up!" he cried as he searched for his dagger somewhere around his ample waist.

"Brother? Is this how you treat your sister?" Catrine smiled and moved towards Antoine.

"Catrine?" How did you leave France? And who is this? Looks like a scruffy outlaw." Guy wanted to do nothing more than run him through with his sword.

"Brother Antoine, I was most sure you'd welcome your own sister and her betrothed back to England with welcoming arms."

"Betrothed, eh? So you did find a husband in a convent after all? Clever girl you always were. And you are?" Antoine reached out his pudgy hand

Guy released his right hand from the hilt of his sword that he had been grasping tightly. "Guy of Gisborne, my lord. Originally from Nottinghamshire."

"Think I've heard of the place before. Now tell, me, when do you intend to marry?"

"Soon, my lord," Catrine answered. "We intend to travel to Nottinghamshire to visit cousin Robin first, and then arrange the marriage service at Locksley chapel. It will be expensive though, brother."

"This planning is in want of money indeed. Gisborne, come sit down. We must talk of money. Catrine, leave us, will you?"

"Oh must I, brother mine?" Catrine pouted so demurely and reached for Antoine's hand, playfully poking his fingers.

"Hohoho, you see Gisborne the youthful lass you've chosen as a bride? Very well, minx, stay for the talking, but don't interrupt and be a good girl.

"Now, Gisborne, Catrine has a large dowry. 50,000 pounds to be exact. But unfortunately, I have no land to offer you myself. Have to support the efforts to regain Jerusalem somehow, you know. However, as I'm sure Catrine has told you, we have close relations in Nottingham, in the town of Locksley. I would be happy to write up a document for the Earl of Huntington so he can sign over land to you.

"I must be honest with you Gisborne," Antoine leaned in closer to Guy. "Catrine was a great expense on my income, you understand. And with needing to fund the Holy War, she was far cheaper to keep in France." Antoine sat up straight again. "But now that it looks like peace will be reached soon, I have no problem with making her happy for the last time. Understand?"

"Perfectly," Guy growled out. He understood far better than before now.

"Excellent, yes yes. You must meet me in my quarters at Westminster Hall in a few hours. I'll give you the money and document then. Yes, yes, good, good." He stuffed his face with turkey and gravy again as the couple rose to leave.

Once the door was shut, Antoine breathed a sigh of relief. Catrine had always deeply scared him; she had even threatened to kill him for sending her to the French convent. He took a giant swig of his ale to wash it all down. He couldn't wait to be rid of her burning presence for good.


	17. Chapter 17

Guy and Catrine walked out of the inn; "Well that was easy," Guy commented, grinning down at Catrine.

"He always was the biggest fool I have ever known. I hate him. I heard him tell you why I was sent to France. The maggot loves his king too much; he also always underestimated what I am truly worth... and capable of."

She reached down to feel her bodice, Guy barely noticed. "Is something the matter?"

"Not anymore. Not after we get the money and the document." They walked across the square towards the elaborate Westminster Hall- the palace of William the Conqueror and all the Kings of England since. The flag at the top of the palace's white façade indicated that Prince John was not home.

Catrine and Guy entered the doors leading to the noble's quarters; nobles who helped the Regent and acted as advisors, like the Earl of Avon. They were shown into a room that looked out onto the Thames. A large oaken desk and a wide oaken chair faced away from the great window.

"I'm surprised they found a chair for Antoine," Catrine commented. "Probably had it specially made." She walked over to the desk and rustled the papers around- reports on the King's excursions into the Holy Land, taxes to fund the war, personal letters. On the corner of the desk stood a canter of wine, French by the smell of it. Catrine pick up the canter and swirled the dark red drink around. A smile slowly spread across her face, and she felt again at her bodice.

Guy moved away from the wall where he had been leaning with his arms crossed. He walked over to her and sat in the giant oak chair. "Not bad," he said. "Room enough for two, my love."

Catrine set the wine down, moving to sit with Guy. She stood before him, and a mischievous smile made her eyes twinkle. "How long before Antoine returns, do you think?"

"Give it an hour, like he said."

"hmmmm… a whole hour," Catrine half moaned as she lifted her skirts up, her hand wandering up her own thigh. Guy could barely believe it.

"Now? Here?"

"Where else to make love better than on my evil brother's throne?" She kneeled in front of him, unlacing the ties to his pants. She took his cock into her mouth, and Guy groaned with pleasure. She sucked and kissed him until he was hard; then she straddled him, guiding his penis into her. Guy groaned again as he reentered the warmth and wetness he had grown to worship over the week. She rocked her hips back and forth, up and down, taking his head in her arms and pressing him to her breasts. His hands pressed her down onto his cock, feeling himself go deeper and deeper. He felt her tighten and she arched her back as she orgasmed, sending waves of pleasure through his own body. A few more thrusts and he came too, wild and breathless. He kissed her shoulders and the tops of her breasts as they caught their breath.

They both stood, and Catrine let out a wild laugh, puddles of their love covered Antoine's precious chair. Her laugh chilled Guy; it was filled with hatred and years of injury and resentment. Then he remembered the spot on her bodice. He went to feel it; something hard and small hid itself there in the lacing.

"You've found my parting present to Antoine, have you?" Catrine couldn't stop herself, her mind and body raced with excitement. This was the moment she'd been waiting for, and it was excellent, perfect even. She pulled out a small vial of reddish liquid from the bodice lacing. "Have you heard of Mandrake root?"

He had. Poison that is hardly traceable, and very hard to acquire too. "Catrine…" he breathed. "He's your brother…"

"He's also to reason I have suffered for years. He hated me; he never once loved me. Not once!" Her voice barely raised above a whisper, and her hand holding the poison shook with passion. "_Guy…" _she said his name in French, adding tenderness with the softness of the word. "_Guy, _I must do this; I've planned this, and I must follow through."

She pulled out the small cork, and held the vial over the canter of red wine. A few drops trickled into in, then the rest of the liquid. She replaced the top, opened the window, and threw the small vial into the Thames just outside the window. She turned to face Guy, her eyes filled with sadness; she trembled.

"There, it's done." She looked into his grey eyes that searched her own. They seemed worried. Guy wrapped his arms around her and let rest there a minute. She did not cry, but stood there stunned. The moment came and passed, and yet Catrine felt rushes of joy and pangs of guilt.

Footsteps echoed off the walls outside the heavy door to the office. The door opened and there stood Antoine with a large chest of money in his hands.

"Well now, my love birds, here is the dowry." He set the chest by the door and reached into the pocket of his waistcoat, pulling out a piece of stiff parchment. "This is officially your letter to the Earl of Huntington, and it's signed by a notary too. There should be no trouble now."

Antoine went to kiss Catrine on the forehead. He stank of sweat and mold and rotting food. She held her breath, then pulled away to Guy's side.

"Thank you, brother."

Guy pocketed the parchment and picked up the chest.

"Now then, care for a glass of wine? Or are you anxious to get thee to a bedroom? Eh?" Antoine moved to his desk, his hand on the canter.

"No thank you, brother," Catrine said coolly, betraying no emotion. "We are due back at the inn now. Enjoy the wine." She blew a kiss to Antoine, and then closed the door behind her and Guy.

Alone, Antoine poured himself a glass and sat in his chair, surprised to find the seat wet. "Oh! The roof must be leaking again!" He sipped his wine.

Later that day, the servant bringing Antoine his dinner found him dead in his chair.

"Always did have a weak heart," thought the servant.


	18. Chapter 18

Guy followed Catrine out of Westminster silently, weighed down by the chest of gold and by the events that just transpired.

"Catrine…" he thought. "So cold and yet so warm." He had promised himself to forgive her everything. "Everything? Even murder?" He remembered the chill she sent down his spine as she poured the vial of Mandrake into the wine. And then how she shivered, almost helpless despite the powerful action she just committed.

He understood her hatred, but he didn't realize just how far she would let her hatred push her. She really hated Antoine, but really acted as though he was her dearest relative- a side of Catrine he had never even remotely seen- those pouting lips and whiney voice.

Catrine was leading both horses to the Purse and Arrow Inn while he carried the gold. At the inn, she threw the reins to a young impish boy who led them to the stable. They walked in and were shown to their room upstairs. Guy set the gold next to their trunks put there by the ship's crew. He heard a thudding crash on the straw mattress.

Catrine collapsed, weeping tears and hiding her face in her hands. Her grief had won out in the end. She couldn't stop her tears or catch her breath. She could only sob. She felt Guy sit on the mattress next to her, and she turned away. How could he stand her? Put up with her? Forgive her? How could she even fulfill her ENTIRE plan if she couldn't even finish this part without remorse? She turned away, inching away from the man who had allowed her to come this far.

The farther she moved away, the closer he leaned in towards her. He needed to comfort. He had to. He knew her grief, her loss, her suffering. And he loved her.

"Shh shhh, it's alright," he said, stroking her hair. She only sobbed harder. He laid down along side her, wrapping her in his arm, letting her cry out her emotions. It was all there was left to do. After a few minutes, her crying slowed.

"Just think," Guy whispered in her ear, "The hills around Locksley will be covered in flowers, young bunnies will be out hopping about, and the horses grazing freely in the fields. Soon, we'll be married in Locksley chapel, and then we'll start rebuilding Gisborne Manor. Lady Gisborne, you'll be then. We'll be together everywhere, in the home, out riding, in the forest. And we'll make love under the starry sky on the hill where we played together that one May Day so long ago…" his voice trailed off, his deep tones soothing her uncontrollable anger and spasms.

"Guy…" she quietly spoke. "Have you ever killed anyone?"

Guy paused, "Yes," he confessed after a moment.

"Is it always this horrible? Afterwards?"

"Sometimes it's worse, sometimes you'll never forget the look in their eye as you kill them. Sometimes you won't feel it for months, even years, afterwards. But you always feel it eventually."

She turned into him to face him; he wiped away the last remaining tears on her cheek. "I know exactly how you feel, my love," Guy soothed her again.

She kissed his cheek, cuddling in closer. He rolled her over on her back, half laying on her, stroking her hair, her cheek, her chin, her neck. He felt down to her breast, resting his hand on its roundness. Then he kissed her all over, and she kissed him back.

"I'd like to be with you, under the stars, _Guy_…" she whispered. Guy smiled.

"How about being with me now, right here? Lady Gisborne?" he voice playful

"Yes, my lord," she cooed as she wrapped her legs around him.


	19. Chapter 19

The road to Nottingham from London was long and tiring. It takes a while for horses with riders and a cart to travel across country. Catrine and Guy had been riding for over a day with little rest. Catrine felt as though she'd slip from her saddle at any moment. But she wanted to appear strong still. Her pride hated letting Guy see her like that- weak, defenseless, crying. But she couldn't help but do that around him. She had to fight so hard just to sit up straight even now, just for her pride's sake.

She felt herself slump forward over her mare's neck.

"Catrine!" Guy stopped her horse and his together. He brushed the hair out of her face and saw her drooping eyelids. "Here, boy!" Guy called out to the cart driver. "Tie the mare up to the back of the cart."

"You'll have to help me my dear," Guy said as he tried to pull Catrine into his saddle.

"No, I'm fine, really."

"No you're not, now help me." Guy pulled her up and over, and Catrine grabbed onto him for support, swinging her legs to one side of his stallion. "There now, not so bad huh?"

Catrine sighed contentedly. "Not bad at all." Her pride hurt, but she was happy; being weak in front of Guy had its advantages she thought as she nestled into the leather of his jacket. She slept until she felt the horses stop.

"We need to water the horses, but we're just outside of Nottingham." Catrine looked up; the green boughs of Sherwood Forest greeted her eyes. It had been so long since she'd seen these woods. They had stopped beside a stream near the road through Sherwood. Catrine walked down to the waterfront, took off her shoes, and soaked her feet in the cool stream. Guy watched as her feet drew circles in the current. She splashed water into her hands and then onto her face, refreshing in its coolness.

Guy sat beside her, letting the water run over his hands too. Without any thought, Guy felt like a child again, took water in his hands, and splashed Catrine's face. She gasped, half shocked, half upset. So she splashed him back. They laughed like they did as children once again, freely- Guy's deep laugh and Catrine's girlish squeals.

Guy lay on his back and looked at the sky filled with clouds. Catrine lay down next to him, and began tracing the lines of his face. Guy closed his eyes and drank in her touch- along his brows, down his nose, between his lips, around his jaw line, and through his unshaven stubble on his cheeks.

"You're so handsome," Catrine whispered.

"And you, you are _Ma belle_," Guy stroked her cheek, gazing into her deep brown eyes with all the love in his heart. "Let's get to Locksley; we're nearly there."

They sat up and mounted their horses, separately once more. It was well past midday already.

"We should find Robin at home. How surprised will he be to see us!" Catrine exclaimed. The lost cousin and the childhood neighbor returning after all these years.

The town of Locksley appeared just over the next hill; Guy's heart thrilled. Soon, he'd own his lands again, marry the woman he loved, and be called, Sir Guy of Gisborne.

They rode through the village to the manor house, stopping to dismount at the stables.

Guy's mind flooded with memories, mostly of his mother and father, Robin as a cocky young boy, and then fire and death. He felt Catrine place her hand in his; they walked up to the house they both remembered so well.

Their knock was answered by a woman with an arrow drawn on her bow.

"Who are you? What business do you have here? Are you from the Sheriff?" she threw out questions with rapid-fire.

Catrine and Guy were silent.

"Well?!" the woman daringly yelled as she tightened the arrow on the bowstring.

"My lady," Catrine's voice oozed assurance and confidence. "We are old friends of Robin of Locksley. I'm his cousin, in fact; so you need not threaten me with your toys." Guy looked down to see Catrine grabbing the handle of her dagger tightly.

"Very well," the woman said. "Come in and take a seat."

They entered the hall, only to find it dusty and disorganized. Catrine moved to sit by the hearth, picking her way through piles of clothing and baskets of food. Guy followed and stood behind her chair. "Tell me, when do you expect my cousin back? He must be off on business." Robin would never keep house like this.

The woman came and stood before them. "Well, I can tell you honestly, I don't know when. Robin has been gone these past two years fighting in the Crusade. He left me in charge as steward. I'm Maid Marian of Knighton Hall, Robin's fiancée."

Catrine's eyes glared over Marian's appearance. She was as unkempt as the rest of the manor house. Her chestnut hair was tied back so as not to get in her way, her skin was brown and cracked from work, and her clothes tattered and sun-bleached.

"Two years is a long time, my dear. Why, I have been engaged less than three weeks, and we intend to marry as soon as possible."

Marian's deep green eyes glanced over her visitors. They seemed both charming and threatening at the same time. Well bred on the outside, but hiding something on the inside. Both of them.

"Oh, where are my manners!" Catrine rose up from her chair. "I am Lady Catrine Marvelle, daughter of the Earl of Avon, and this is my betrothed, Guy of Gisborne." They curtsied and bowed shallowly and in synch with each other.

"A pleasure," Marian responded. "I'm only sorry Robin's not here to help you, is there something I could do?"

"As a matter of fact, there is. You see," Catrine pulled out the parchment from the inside of her bodice, "this paper declares that I have a right to a portion of this estate as part of my dowry. Now as the wedding is to be in Locksley chapel in about two days, I would very much appreciate you returning to… Knighton Hall, was it… as soon as you can."

"As Robin's steward, I don't think that appropriate."

Catrine's anger began to rise; this whore would deprive her of the only thing she and Guy really wanted- the land. "Are you speaking as his steward, or as his neglected fiancée?"

Catrine's words bit right into Marian's heart. "If you wouldn't mind leaving now…" Marian quietly articulated. She made a motion towards her bow and arrow.

Catrine laughed. "No need for your defenses, Maid Marian, we will leave; leave and go speak with the Sheriff of Nottingham. And then, we will return. I suggest you pack your bags."

Catrine's brown eyes drilled their way into Marian's soft green ones. She left through the door and called over the groom to bring the horses. Marian stood with her bow in her had at the door. Catrine took full advantage of her presence; she reached up to Guy and kissed him passionately, running her hands through his long raven hair and down his back. Guy was surprised and found it somewhat uncalled for, but he lost his thoughts when Catrine kissed him like this.

They mounted their horses and rode off quickly towards Nottingham with their cart in tow behind them. Marian closed the door and collapsed against it, crying.


	20. Chapter 20

Guy rode as fast as he could just to try to catch Catrine as she cantered away. He matched her pace and tried to get her attention; he called her name, but she wouldn't respond. She only rode faster.

"Catrine! Don't be stupid!" Guy slowed his horse. Ten yards in front of him, Catrine slowed hers too, hanging her head and catching her breath. "We'll get the land, don't worry. The sheriff must allow us our claim with the document; the deal's as good as closed," Guy spoke as he walked his horse up to her.

"I'll make certain the deal is closed. How dare that bitch think he can run the Locksley estate! She's a nobody, probably with no spec of noble blood in her. Hah! And she thinks should can threaten me!" Catrine shook with rage. So close and yet so far. All that stood in her way was some grimy tart that Robin had the nerve to propose to. Two years ago. And now he's fighting like every other self-important noble in the damned Crusades.

"She'll soon be gone from Locksley. We'll see to that," Guy's voice had a reassuring sound to Catrine. He sounded confident and even calculating. "Now, let's meet the Sheriff of Nottingham, shall we?"

They spurred their horses towards the giant castle in Nottingham, already visible from so far away.

Guy had not been anywhere near here for years, but everything looked exactly the same: same dirty peasants, same thatched roofs, same mangy animals. He thought of all that just happened, the glint in her eye as she held the dagger, the condescending tone in her voice, and especially that kiss. Catrine had never kissed him like that before; it was almost too hungry, too powerful. He laughed; she kissed him like he kissed her, with a sense of possession, showing off the world that she was with this man.

"Guy?" Catrine asked, interrupting his thoughts, "What do you know about the Sheriff?"

"Well, from what I've heard, he's newly appointed, hand picked by Prince John himself. He just took over leadership about two years ago, and he's one of the most ruthless tax collectors England has ever known."

"Good news for us. Sounds like he'll be easily bribed. Men like him sell power."

Guy looked over at Catrine, and she looked radiant; this same woman not moments ago curled into his arms like a child, then clutched her dagger with murderous intent, and then kissed him with lust and hunger. Such changes in her manner always threw him, but it always ended the same, with her in his arms.

Entering the courtyard of Nottingham Castle, Catrine and Guy dismounted and walked up the stairs into the hall. Castle guards led the couple to the doors of the Great Hall and pushed open the thick oak doors. At the other end of the hall sat a man, past middle age and balding. He sat, or rather sprawled across the grand seat. As they walked towards him, the man leaped up from his seat.

"Ah good! Visitors!" he fairly jumped down from the steps in front of his chair. "You know, it gets tediously boring being sheriff now that the month's taxes are in. And you are?" the sheriff barely held the tips of Catrine's fingers and moved to kiss her hand.

"Lady Catrine Marvelle, daughter of the Earl of Avon, my Lord Sheriff," Catrine cooed.

"Yes, good. And you," he circled Guy. "You must be her noble beloved, hmm? Her fiancé? Or already husband?" he stood before Guy, sizing him up.

"Guy of Gisborne, my Lord Sheriff, and the lady's fiancé indeed."

"Yes yes, good. And what do two young lovers, such as yourselves, want from me, a humble sheriff, hmm?" the Sheriff stood behind Catrine and Guy and put his arms around them.

"We need you to settle a dispute, my lord," Guy answered, handing him the document from Antoine. The Sheriff immediately snatched it out of his hands and ran to the window for better light.

"I see, you want the town of Locksley as part of your dowry, eh Lady Catrine? Not satisfied enough with your lover, so you must have land? Hmm?"

Catrine blushed, "My Lord Sheriff!" Guy looked at her intently as she spoke. "Now, where would my husband and I live without this document?"

The Sheriff shrugged, "Well put. Your future wife has a beautifully cunning brain, Gisborne. Now tell me, what's the benefit to… me… if I let you run Locksley? Think I'll let you foreigners into my shire without knowing your background? A clue: no."

The Sheriff smirked at the couple as they exchanged looks.

Guy stepped forward. "My Lord Sheriff, the land now is not being run efficiently enough. Lady Marian, Huntington's steward, is letting the land go to waste; we just arrived here from visiting Locksley, you see."

Catrine smiled and squeezed Guy's hand; "The unstoppable Lord and Lady Gisborne," she thought.

"And you two," the Sheriff waved the parchment in his hands at them, "you could run it better?"

"Yes, my lord. More money for your taxes, and of course you'd earn our undying loyalty," Catrine stated just what she knew the Sheriff wanted to hear.

"Oh. I like the sound of that," the Sheriff walked over to Gisborne. "Tell me, Gisborne, I'm in need of a new Lieutenant to help me… run things… Are you a good fighter?"

"Yes, of course my lord. I'd be honored to serve you," the title of 'Lieutenant' rang in Guy's ears: Sir Guy of Gisborne, Lieutenant of Nottingham.

"Then it's settled," the Sheriff walked behind them again and clapped them both on the back. "The future Lord and Lady Gisborne will run the town of Locksley, bringing in more tax money and a new lieutenant for me. An excellent deal." The Sheriff bounded over to the table to get a piece of parchment and a quill. He wrote something quickly and then poured wax on the corner, pressing his signet ring into the hot wax.

"Present this paper to Lady Marian; it relieves her of her services to Locksley immediately."

Guy took the paper and bowed quickly.

"Oh, by the by, Gisborne, when do you lovebirds plan to be married? I'd love to be there."

"Two days, my lord Sheriff. As soon as we can," Guy moved to turn from the Sheriff, but he felt his arm caught. Guy turned to face the old man.

"My Lady, would you ever so mind if I give your fiancé a quick tour of the castle and explanation of his new job? You can kick the girl out of your home on your own, can't you?" The Sheriff took the paper from Guy's hand, extending it to Catrine.

"As my Lord Sheriff wishes."

"There's a good girl. Now say good bye to your lover; I'll return him to you in about an hour." The Sheriff watched as Guy kissed her, a tender kiss that lingered on her lips for a minute.

"Such a good choice, Gisborne," the Sheriff commented as Catrine left the hall. "She's strong, that's obvious. She's also completely in love with you, equally obvious; and she's completely dangerous, the most obvious."


	21. Chapter 21

"Now Gisborne, you must tell me," the Sheriff sat in his chair again, "where did you meet such a charming woman?"

"In France, my lord. She need passage back to England, and I needed a woman…"

"A woman with claims to land," the Sheriff interjected.

"Well, yes. But it also just seemed that our fates crossed at the right time; I give her everything she needs, and she gives me everything I need. It works well."

"Glad you found your soul mate, dangerous as she is," the Sheriff waved his hand and stood up.

"Why do you say she's dangerous?"

"Any woman who thinks is dangerous. And if you give her everything she wants, then what's there to stop her from taking it all away from you entirely?" Guy glared at him. "Or is she a saintly martyr?"

Guy stormed away a few paces; he realized that these same thoughts had plagued his own brain. Could Catrine ever bring herself to get rid of him? "No, she loves me, my Lord Sheriff."

"You're lying to yourself. Has she ever killed anyone before?"

Guy was silent.

"Someone close to her?"

Still, silence.

"Then why not… you? Why don't you reverse the tables, hmm? Make her scared of you? Or just rid yourself of the problem once you have your land and title?"

"No!" Guy scream, reaching for his sword's hilt.

"Ah, you love her too much. Or do you just don't love yourself enough? Kill or be killed, Gisborne."

Guy began drawing his sword from his scabbard, stopping half way. He remembered the glint in her eye as she dripped the poison into the wine, the look in her face as she handled her dagger; would he ever have to face that glint when she looked at him? He heard part of himself answer, "yes."

He put the blade back resting at his side. He remembered cradling her in the inn, wiping away her tears, laying beside the stream as she traced the lines of his face, kissing her in a fit of pure passion at Locksley. He couldn't end that.

"No, my lord. I know she's dangerous, but I can control her. I love her, and I know she loves me. I've survived worse in battle before," Guy answered in a steady voice. "Now, will you tell me about my duties here? Or is this introduction to my job through?"

The Sheriff smiled from where he stood on the stairs. Guy was strong, thickheaded and devoutly loyal. "We are just beginning my friend, and I know, that you know, that you'll make and excellent lieutenant."


	22. Chapter 22

Catrine mounted her mare, feeling the parchment press into her breasts from the inside of her bodice. Finally, she accomplished what she wanted: land, a title, and a life of her own. She'd be free to act on her own, free from the confining convent walls or from her brother's false love. She had only a handful of obstacles left in her way, and the next one to be taken out: Marian.

She galloped with all the speed her horse could give her to Locksley, blurring with speed to the village. She slowed entering the fences around the town's outskirts and paused when she saw Marian carrying baskets in the yard in front of the carpenter's home.

"There you go, Will. You really are your father's son, Will Scarlett. Tell your dad I dropped by," Marian hugged the young teen and turned to leave. She stopped dead in tracks seeing Catrine sitting on her black mare.

"Lady Catrine," Marian dipped a quick curtsey.

"Lady Marian," Catrine nodded in return. She dismounted and grabbed her reigns, leading her horse behind her.

"You needn't walk back with me, my lady," Marian replied, avoiding Catrine's gaze.

"Oh, it's quite alright. You see, I wanted to apologize for our meeting earlier," Catrine smiled sweetly. Too sweetly, Marian thought. "I've been at a French convent so long that I seem to have… forgotten my manners."

"It's quite alright, I suppose. How long were you in France, my lady? And if you were in a convent, then how did you meet your fiancé?"

Marian asked too many questions; Catrine just wanted to slap her and be done with the false pretenses of kindness. "Well, I had been in the convent since my early youth, and I decided I had had enough of it. So I ran away. I met my sweet _Guy_ at a banquet, and we were betrothed that same night."

"Simple enough answer," Marian thought. "She gave me an answer without answering my question."

"So have you been here to Nottingham before then, to visit your cousin Robin? Why ask for Locksley as part of your dowry?" Marian pried further; she sensed history here. And she yearned to hear anything about Robin from his childhood.

Thankfully, they had almost reached the manor house. Catrine had simply enough of this inquisition. "Robin! Oh he was such a naughty boy. But some of my favorite memories from my childhood were here at Locksley. I guess this area has deep sentimental value to me."

The two women stopped at the door to the manor, and Catrine handed her horse to the stable boy.

"So that gives you grounds to take it from Robin while he's away?" Marian stood in front of the door, blocking Catrine out.

"As his blood relative… I have legal grounds to run the estate in his absence. I am owed at least part of the Locksley estate as my dowry, so I might as well run it in my… blood relation's… stead," Catrine's voice grew icy; she stepped towards the door and towards Marian, reaching into the top of her bodice.

She pulled out the parchment and handed it to Marian. Catrine watched as Marian's face blanched as she read. "Now," she said steadily, "please gather your belongings from my manor. My husband-to-be and I will safely see you home to… Knighton Hall was it?... and you can give your family our regards." Catrine pushed past Marian and opened the door, walking in the hall filled with Marian's trunks and belongings. She walked up the stairs.

"Oh, and one more thing, Marian," Catrine called from the upper landing. "When my fiancé arrives, will you tell him I'll be waiting in the bedroom? Waiting eagerly for him to come up and see the surprise I have for him." Catrine's laugh filled the manor; it echoed off the walls and into Marian's ears.

Marian shuddered and walked out to the stable to find a cart to take her to Knighton Hall. Her father would be pleased. He always thought that Robin would never fulfill his promise to marry her. Marian fumed at the idea of that whore and her frightening fiancé making love in Robin's bed. In her bed. The thought made tears well up in her eyes.

She turned the corner into the stables and ran into something hard. And leathery.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Lady Marian," Guy said as he staggered backwards. "On your way out, I assume."

"Yes, Sir Guy, just leaving," Marian steadied her voice. "Oh and, your charming fiancée sends you a message: she's waiting for you, in the bedroom, expectantly." It pained Marian to deliver this message, and even more as she saw Guy's eyes begin to glow with expectation.

"Oh, really now? Well, I must oblige my fiancée. You'll see yourself out, won't you?" He stepped past Marian and practically ran into the manor. Marian picked a horse and led it out to be shackled to a cart. She moved the cart in front of Locksley Manor and began moving her heavy trunks onto the cart herself. She tried desperately to tune out the groans and moans and cries of, "Oh _Guy!_" coming from the bedroom window. The sounds of their lovemaking echoed in Marian's head long after her cart started its journey back to Knighton Hall, back to her father, and away from all memories of the joy she had shared with Robin.

In the bedroom, Catrine clung to Guy; she rubbed her hands along his back, pushing him deeper into her. Despite Guy's intoxicating thrusting, Catrine heard Marian load up her cart. She wanted to give her something to remember her by.

"mmm… oh _Guy_, deeper," Catrine moaned. She bit gently into his shoulder, moaning louder and louder. She had to be heard from outside the manor.

Guy wasn't sure what he was doing differently to make Catrine say these things, but for him, making love in Robin's old bed cemented his feeling of victory. He had won, and Catrine's moans assured himself that she felt the victory too.

Catrine trembled in his arms, tightening her legs around his waist as she came; she cried out his name louder than before. Then Guy heard the cart rattling away from Locksley Manor; finally, he understood why she was screaming and moaning with extra pleasure. Distracted, he had stopped his thrusting.

"My lord," Catrine panted, running her fingers along his back, up to his neck, and into his unruly raven hair, "it's your turn to reach your highest." Guy looked down; she was so enticing, her skin almost glowing from sweat and pleasure. But he couldn't seem to finish.

Catrine looked him in the eye, questioning him- half worried, half suspicious. Guy sighed, "I'm tired," and he leaned in to kiss her. Catrine's lips parted beneath his kiss, and his tongue traced along her lips. Then she gathered her strength, rolling over on top of Guy, still his hardness stayed within her.

"I understand your problem, my lord…" she breathed out. He liked it better when she spoke tenderly. She sat up on him, gyrating her hips, lifting herself up and down. She took his hands, placing them on her hips; he moved her, feeling through his hands and his cock. He felt the pressure building again, and he begged her to move faster. His body released its tension as he gasped for air, digging his fingers into the roundness of her hips. Catrine whined in pain at the scratches and bruises now around her hips, but it didn't matter. She moved off of him, kissing her way back up to his neck, gently nipping his chest and arms. She rested her head over his heart, hearing his pulse racing with his pleasured excitement.

"Catrine," Guy whispered into her hair, "I've never heard you sound like that before." He paused, unsure if he should continue, "It didn't have anything to do with the visitor just beneath our window, did it?"

He caught her. She tensed in his arm. She turned to look at him with what looked like fear in her eyes. She was silent.

"Well, I guess…" Catrine looked away, "I guess I got caught up in my victory. I wanted her to know just how much I had won."

"Catrine, my love…" Guy gently chastised, "It's a bit harsh, don't you think?"

"You didn't enjoy it?" And there it was on her face- the beginnings of a sickening sweet pout. In his deepest heart, he knew what this meant. How could he reason out of this one? He reached up to stroke her cheek.

"Catrine, of course I enjoyed it; I never will stop enjoying making love to you." The pout disappeared, and she began kissing his hand, gently sucking on each finger. Guy breathed a sigh of relief. Still, he couldn't ignore the sense of dread within his heart.

"I suppose I was a little, over the top…" Catrine admitted. "But I hate that bitch; she asks far too many questions. It would be dangerous for a woman like that to know too much."

"Over the top?" Guy chuckled, "more like you were on top, my love."


	23. Chapter 23

After two whole days of arranging the Manor, reorganizing farm lands and crops, and disciplining out-of-line peasants, the Gisborne wedding was finally here. Bouquets upon bouquets of flowers lined every inch of Locksley Hall, and arbors of woven flowers lined the walk from the manor to the chapel. Bouquets and arbors of roses. Catrine loved roses, the only flower both beautiful and capable of drawing blood, she had told Guy, and the roses of Locksley were the most beautiful she had seen.

Thornton, the head servant of Locksley, ran around frantically, organizing the final touches on the decorations. Banners with the Gisborne crest fluttered in the gentle breeze- Or and Sable, gold and black, interlaced. Guy waited for his bride to come out of the manor doors, he wore a long black tunic of leather, a hint of a golden tunic underneath peaked out the top- black and gold- the colors of his family crest. Anxious, Guy fingered the ring he had bought her, pure gold interweaving bands with Onyx stones. Every part of this wedding would be perfect- he had to uphold the Gisborne name- a family so long without title or land.

He heard movement from the direction of the manor. The doors creaked open, and out stepped Catrine. Her brocade dress of the most elegant gold fabric, the stitching laced around in gold and black, and her white veil covered her face in a sheer, held in place by a garland of yellow roses. "This was Lady Gisborne," Guy thought, "the very female embodiment of his family, of his bloodline."

He entered the chapel and stood before the priest at the altar. Catrine processed into the chapel as the townspeople cheered outside. Every local noble came to attend the wedding, but most prominently, the Sheriff himself sat in the front. Sir Edward of Knighton was present, though his daughter, Marian, made her apologies for her lack of attendance.

Catrine reached the altar and knelt beside Guy; his grey eyes shades of blue lighter with his joy. The priest poured the Latin prayers over the couple, but Guy barely listened, his heart raced with the idea of being Lord and Lady Gisborne- at last. Catrine looked as though she hung on every word the priest uttered, every now and then returning his gaze with her smiling brown eyes. The priest asked the couple to stand, and Guy held the ring in his hand. He slowly placed it on her left hand. Now she was his, and he was hers.

"My lords!" the priest exclaimed, "I now present Lord and Lady Gisborne!" The chapel burst into applause, the Sheriff even added a clap every now and then slowly. Guy removed the white lace veil from her face; she looked so innocent and perfect as a blushing bride. He kissed her- the most chaste kiss they had ever shared.

They walked out of the chapel arm in arm; Catrine was laughing as the villagers threw rose petals everywhere. Just outside of the chapel, Thornton had arranged the banquet tables. Food was piled high everywhere, and musicians' music filled the air. Catrine couldn't stop her laughter, the same bubbly laugh that Guy remembered from years ago when they were children. He couldn't help but join her laughter. They sat at the head table, facing the musicians and all their guests; the servants plied their plates with food and their cups with wine.

Amidst all the laughter and noise, Catrine leaned into Guy; "I met you at a dinner much like this one."

"Thank God the Baroness du Chatain is such a… generous… hostess," Guy quipped back, pinching her chin lightly. Catrine laughed and kissed his hand. She held his hand out on the table and studied it for a while, turning it over and over, looking at every minute part.

"What are you doing?" Guy gently asked.

"I thought it obvious, my love. I'm just amazed by your hands; they give me such comfort, such joy, such pleasure, and yet they are so strong, so tough. Just like you, _Guy_."

He moved in to kiss her again, this time, the crowd let out a roar of approval. The couple separated, blushing and grinning.

A troubadour came and sat himself amidst the crowded tables, his garb was bright blue and red, and his lute was laid on his knee.

Guy leaned into Catrine, "I sent Thornton to find us a true French troubadour. His name is Bernart, Bernart de Ventadorn. His is the minstrel of the Queen Mother herself, it's even rumored that he's the Queen's lover," Guy's voice resounded with mischief.

The minstrel quieted the crowd and then began strumming a slow, soulful tune on his lute. His voice joined in soon after, deep and resonant, singing in strange words Catrine could not understand.

_Can vei la lauzeta mover, de joi sas alas contra…_

"What language is that? It is neither French nor Spanish nor Italian."

"It's the dialect of Southern France. He's singing about a maiden whom he loves like a bird loves flight, but his mistress won't even glance at him. He sings, 'Alas, I thought I knew so much about love, and really I know so little, for I cannot keep myself from loving her from whom I shall have no favor. She has stolen from me my heart, myself, herself, and all the world. Let me gaze into her eyes- that mirror that pleases me so greatly.' He now sings how all men are fools for loving women."

Guy smiled as he translated. It felt as though this minstrel was singing his own thoughts.

Catrine sighed and closed her eyes, lost in the beautiful music. "Men can be fools for loving women," she thought. "Then again, women can be fools for loving men too."

***

After a time, Guy called over Thornton. The aging man came over, a smile in his eyes, happy to have a successful celebration.

"Thornton, did you remove the old chairs from the bedroom and have them replaced, like I asked you?"

"My lord Gisborne, I told you before, those chairs have been in the Locksley family for…"

"I don't care how important they are to the Locksleys. I am Lord Gisborne now, and I expect that my servants do as I ask." Guy's voice was hard and steely; it sent shivers down Catrine's spine- shivers of pleasure.

"Yes, my lord. I'll have them removed today and replaced tomorrow."

"You had better. I wouldn't try to push the old Locksley ways on me, Thornton. Those actions will not be appreciated." Thornton turned and left.

"The old coot," Catrine commented. "He'll soon know not to disobey Sir Guy of Gisborne, won't he? You already take such strong command of the servants, my lord." She began stroking his thigh through his leather tunic. "Your command is… rather stirring."

"Can't wait to get to the bedroom, can you?" Guy grabbed her wrist, gently moving her hand over his cock.

"Oh, _Guy,_ I'm sure this will be a night you'll never forget," Catrine looked down as she stroked his thigh harder. If Guy could look in her eyes, he'd see a not unfamiliar glint to them.


	24. Chapter 24

Catrine laid next to Guy in his arm, wide-awake, listening to his shallow breathing. She studied has hand again, cupped around her breast- so strong and so tender. She quietly moved herself from his sleeping embrace and sat on the edge of the bed. Her hands grasped her head hanging down in deep thought.

She had loved the wedding that day, except for the peasants and nobles cheering them on their way to the bedroom, hovering around for hours and hours. She just wanted to be alone. She had everything tangible she ever dreamed of; only one thing remained to be done to fulfill her plan she carefully wrought in the French Convent.

Unbidden tears flooded her eyes; she wanted nothing more than to complete this plan for years- it had driven her, fed her, and controlled her for so long that she couldn't stop herself. She heaved a deep sigh.

Guy stirred in the bed ever so slightly, making Catrine tense. She sat absolutely silent and still until she heard his breath settle again.

She eased herself off the bed, and quietly dressed herself in a white silk robe. Her bare feet made no noise over the floorboards. She crept into the hallway and down the stairs. On the table sat the silverware from the banquet, gleaming in the moonlight. Catrine reached for a knife, really more of a dagger, used to carve the cooked meat. It had barely had time to dry, dripping a last few drops of water down the blade as she picked it up. It felt heavy in her hand- heavy and wet.

She switched hands; the handle now in her left hand pinched against her finger as she heard a feint clink. The metal of the handle rubbed against her wedding ring. Catrine almost dropped the knife in shock. Her hands trembled. But she moved inexorably on, up the stairs and on the landing.

Silently, she pushed open the door; Guy still lay sleeping on his back in only his pants, his arms cuddling into the sheets for warmth. Catrine stood in the door, and her breath caught in her throat. She couldn't move. Images of Guy over the past few weeks flooded her mind: his smile, his eyes, his hands. But somewhere in the most remote corner of her mind, Catrine saw her father's stern eyes close for the last time and Antoine's fat face smiling his goodbye as she left for France. This is what happens when you trust men.

Her feet moved forward again, right up alongside Guy's sleeping form. Catrine gripped the knife in her hand, feeling its coolness. She began to raise it from her side….

She stopped. She could hear his very heart beating in his bare chest; closing her eyes she could hear the blood rushing through his veins with each pulse, his breath was deep, even and shallow. How could she bring and end to this music? To end the only thing in her life that pleased her, made her happy.

Her mind raced and went black as she crumpled to the floor, bracing her arm on the very edge of the bed and resting her head there too. She paused to catch her breath before looking up. She felt a swift movement on the bed and felt her head lifting up.

Guy sat up straight, gripping her hair and pointing his own dagger to her throat.

"I had really hoped I wouldn't need to use this," Guy grasped the dagger's black handle tighter. "But when I felt you leave, I thought I'd be ready, just in case." His voice was cold and steely again. As were his eyes, light up by the moonlight.

"_Guy…_ F-forgive me. Please, _Guy," _Catrine's voice was barely audible, masked by tears. "I… I… couldn't do it. I… had planned for years… to be free," with each word, she gave a wrenching sob. "I hated Antoine…"

"And do you hate me too?" Guy's voice remained cold and quiet, he pressed the blade lightly to her throat. "You'd get rid of me to have your land. After all I've done for you. All the love I've given you."

"You don't love me. It's not possible to love me," Catrine sighed through her tears.

"Don't be stupid, Catrine," Guy moved his dagger away a bit, reaching down to grab the knife from the floor where it had fallen. He looked at the weapon, and threw it into the door where it stuck, point straight in.

Guy grabbed her shoulders and roughly pulled her up, pushing her to the bed. She landed hard on her stomach, burying her face in the mattress. Guy knelt down, straddling her, grabbing her wrists behind her back. He took the chord from the bedpost and tied her hands tightly together, his dagger still gripped in his hands. Catrine cried out in pain and fear.

"What are you doing? I'm sorry Guy! I couldn't kill you! I… I had planned to, but I… I love you!" She tried to squirm out from under him, but he was far too strong. She felt him relax and move off her. He stood beside the bed, and she sat up to face him- her hair sticking to her tear-streaked face. He brushed the hair away and wiped her eyes once more.

"That," he said in a warm tone, "is the first time you've ever said you love me."

Catrine shuddered, releasing her fearful muscles' tension. "I do,_ Guy,_ I love you knowing that I cannot be loved."

"I already said that is stupid. What do I call you? Do I not call you, 'My love?'"

"It's just a pet name. It means nothing."

"So," Guy's voice grew stern, "I need to teach you just how much I love you. It will be a hard lesson to learn, my dear." He grabbed Catrine by the shoulders again, forcing her to stand and pushing her around the bed to the opposite wall, the dagger never leaving his hand.

"Wh-what are you going to do?" Catrine asked, her voice shaking in fear.

"Show you just how much I love you," Guy's chilling voice thrilled Catrine with fear and the feeling of helplessness.

"Firstly, I married you knowing that this was your plan." Catrine's pleading eyes widened, asking him how. "I read it in your eyes all along," Guy answered her unspoken question, stepping closer to Catrine; she stepped backwards, stopped by the wall.

"I've also done everything in my power to get you here, to this very moment," Guy pressed into her against the wall. "I will also love you as Lady Gisborne, always and forever, my love," he breathed in her ear, pressing even harder into her. The muscles of his chest flexed against her as he raised the dagger in his right hand.

"But," Guy continued, "I will have to… punish you… for this." A mischievous smile spread across his taught face. Fear still clutched at Catrine's heart as Guy held the dagger, but her heart was also warmed with his words.

Guy pressed the dagger's fine tip gently to her shoulder's bare skin, and Catrine stopped breathing, squirming under his weight again. He barely nicked her skin; a thin line of blood began to form. Guy thrusted the dagger into the wall beside where they stood; he began kissing her neck, feeling how tense Catrine was. He smiled a bit, and began kissing her along the top of her bleeding shoulder. Finally, he started kissing away the blood from the small scratch.

Catrine felt helpless, fearful, and hungry for him; each of his kisses thrilled her as never before as he kissed her blood. He lifted his head to look into her eyes, a drip of blood remaining at the corner of his lip. Catrine kissed it away from him, kissing him harder and deeper, nipping and biting at his lips.

Guy reached down to her waist and ripped away the bottom of her thin silk shift, tearing it with ease. Catrine felt the cold night air on her exposed skill, her nerves igniting in the chill. Guy loosened his pants, and they fell to his feet. He pressed her into the wall again, running his nails into her thigh, spreading her legs apart. He entered her with such a forceful thrust, Catrine cried out in pain. Her hands bound behind her, Catrine longed to run her fingers along Guy's body as she always did. But she couldn't. She lifted one leg, wrapping it around his waist; Guy groaned in pleasure as he felt himself enter deeper, his hands splayed on either side of her. He thrusted deeper and harder; Catrine came with a cry, filled with the pleasure she found by being entirely at Guy's mercy. Guy thrusted deeper and faster, biting into her shoulder, and finally he came too, filled with the joy of power.

He breathed heavily as he reached around Catrine, untying her from her bonds. Her hands reached for Guy, finally able to trace her fingers along his back. Grabbing her hand, Guy pulled Catrine back into bed. They lay catching their breath for a minute still.

Guy nuzzled himself into her breasts, "I do love you, Catrine, my lady Gisborne."

"And I love you," Catrine kissed his dark hair. "You, my lord, are an excellent teacher."


	25. Chapter 25

"Ah! Gisborne! So glad you've come!" the Sheriff opened his arms wide as Guy entered the small room deep in the bowels of Nottingham Castle. "Or, now, should I call you, SIR Guy of Gisborne, hmm? The married life suiting you well?"

"Very well, Sheriff," Guy stepped closer to the Sheriff. "I must admit, you were right about her being dangerous."

"Ah ha, your tigress showed her claws did she? And yet you are happily married. Showed her who's in control, hmm?"

Guy smiled slightly, "In a fashion, my lord."

"Good. Now, Gisborne, can you tell me what happens tomorrow?" The Sheriff circled around the empty room, holding his arms apart.

"I'm… not sure, my lord."

"Tomorrow, my dear Gisborne, is tax day! By tomorrow night this chamber should be filled with tax money from all the towns of Nottingham. I can almost hear the happy chinking of money in leather bags." The Sheriff fingered an empty back, stretching it out and opening it. He handed the bag to Guy. "This will be yours… to collect Locksley's taxes in. Unfortunately for you, Locksley has a long history of being unable to meet its required sum. You had to pick the most unruly town in Nottingham, eh?"

"I'll be able to correct that reputation, my lord. In time."

"By, 'in time,' you mean, by tomorrow, right Gisborne?"

"I'll do my best, sir. But I've only been controlling these peasants for less than a month now."

"Yes, try your hardest Gisborne, that's all I can ask of you. Once you've collected your own taxes, you will be in charge of seeing that all the other towns and their noble lords turn their tax money in to this very room. Understand, my lieutenant?"

Guy nodded silently.

"Oh. And to help you in your work tomorrow, I've assigned you a squadron of men all your own to command. Your own… personal guard… you might say."

"My own men?"

"Yes!" The Sheriff wrapped his arm around Guy and led him out of the room. They began walking up a steep flight of stairs. "And don't worry, I've already seen to their uniforms; you see, I was… inspired… by your wedding. At least I learned your favorite colors."

On the stair's landing stood a troupe of ten men wearing leather uniforms of black and yellow.

"Men! This is your fearless leader now." The Sheriff turned away from the group. "Oh, Gizzy, show them who's boss. And bring me my tax money," he called over his shoulder.

***

Guy rode slowly back to Locksley, followed by his men walking behind him. "Catrine will be proud to see this," Guy spoke to himself as he turned to look at the men. He had to prove himself worthy of these men and the power that came along with them.

As the squadron entered into Locksley, villagers stopped their work or came out the door of their homes to observe the procession. As Guy rode up to the manor, he saw Catrine sweep out the front door, her pale blue dress flowing behind her. Her face lit up seeing the squadron of men in black and yellow lead by her husband. He looked so gallant, so dominating, riding his stallion in front of these uniformed men.

Guy ordered the men to halt, and staying astride his horse, he shouted his announcement over the whole of Locksley Village.

"People of Locksley, tomorrow is tax day." Guy circled his horse around the open space of the village. "This year, Locksley will meet its tax quota, and I will make sure of that. Prepare your goods for market, or whatever else you need to do to pay your tax—your… entire… tax."

Catrine watched the crowd, glowing with pride at Guy's booming words. It was now their turn to up hold their deal with the Sheriff. A father and two young boys from the village caught her eye. The eldest boy she had seen before- the same boy that bitch Marian had been helping her first day in Locksley. Will- yes that was his name- Will Scarlett. Their voices barely drifted to Catrine's ear.

"Father, how will we pay our taxes? We've barely enough left after last month's taxes!" said the familiar boy. His father patted him on the head.

"Well, we'll just have to take what we can and try to sell it today in Nottingham, don't worry Will. Even if it means selling some of your mother's jewelry, rest her soul," Dan Scarlett choked a bit on this last phrase with grief.

Catrine felt a strong arm wrap her in a hug from behind, distracting her from the scene; "Oh I've missed you, Lady Gisborne," Guy kissed her check.

"So you have men at your command now, my lord?"

"Men and a tax to collect. The Sheriff made that very clear today, especially as his Lieutenant."

"Well, rest assured Guy, these peasants will make an effort to pay their taxes. I just heard one family planning to sell their dead mother's jewelry to pay up. And if a family can't pay, well, I'm sure we'll think of some way to… discourage… such irresponsible behavior," Catrine said.

"Nothing… to harsh, I'm sure. There's always confiscation to make ends meet. Now, I have to see to my men." Guy gave her one last squeeze and left Catrine in front of the manor.

As Guy left, the boy Will and his little brother walked up to Catrine. They bowed, and Catrine noticed that Will carried a small box in his hands. "My Lady Gisborne; my family seems to be a few coins short of our dues. We were planning to go to Nottingham to sell this jewelry, and my brother and I thought that you might like the first look at them." The boy averted his gaze downward as he spoke, and so did his younger brother.

"What are your names, my dears?" Although she hated the thought of paying for part of a peasant's taxes, she was curious.

"Will Scarlett, My Lady, and this is my brother Luke. Our father is Dan Scarlett, the town carpenter." Catrine looked over to their house, seeing the dad look on from behind their fencing.

"Our family would be most grateful if you considered anything from this box," Will said, handing the box over to Catrine.

She gently opened the wooden box; inside laid silver pendants and rings and delicate silver bracelets. Catrine picked up a pendant on a leather string- the silver interlace shinning around a center of pearl, the kind of pearl that shone many colors in the sun. "Oh…" Catrine marveled at its beauty.

"That was our mother's favorite," Will said; young Luke pulled at Will's tunic in protest, but Will batted his hand away.

Catrine's heart was moved with pity for the boys, and the necklace truly was beautiful; again, she hated to pay for their taxes though. She fought passed the irritation.

"How much would help you?"

"One silver sovereign would be more than enough, my lady."

Catrine reached into her purse on her belt, pulling out two silver coins. "Don't tell anyone; this is just between us," she smiled at the boys, handing them each a silver sovereign. Why not help a couple of young boys? They will now worship her, she thought.

Young Luke gazed intently at the coin in his hand and ran to his father. "You are very kind, my lady," Will bowed, smiling his gratitude.

Catrine tied the necklace around her neck, feeling its weight and beauty. She walked into the manor.

"Where'd you get that?" Guy asked from his chair in front of the fireplace, drinking a glass of wine.

"Do you like it? I bought it off of the Scarlett boys; they were short on their tax money, and it belonged to their dead mother."

"Catrine," Guy's voice scolded, "What happened to the idea of punishment and confiscation?"

"I forgot about them when I wanted this necklace. And besides, Guy, a little compassion now and again is healthy. Surely not everyone will pay tomorrow."

"I believe my wife has a merciful side," Guy stood up to kiss her.

"She does," Catrine welcomed his kisses, returning them. "She does, but she only shows it on special occasions."


	26. Chapter 26

Guy was glad to have the extra men for tax day, controlling the crowd as he sat with his wife at a table in front of the manor house. The Sheriff had been right; half the people of Locksley were behind in their taxes. The town was short almost 500 pounds total. Although it was better than previously, it would not please the Sheriff, and Guy knew it. However, he was not willing to part with his own 500 pounds just to appease him.

"What now, Guy?" Catrine asked, holding the legers in her hand, pondering the same issue. "We can't very well beat, or hang, or brand half the town."

Guy's hand clenched into a fist, "Why not? I have men. I am the Sheriff's Lieutenant. I am master of these lands."

"_Guy…"_ Catrine tried to comfort her husband, like he had done for her so many times before. But he just stood up, slapped her hand away and stormed into the manor. Catrine rose to follow him in. He stood leaning against the mantle, staring into the fire. A branding iron with the letter "D" dangled from his hand into the flames.

"Guy, if you must, just make an example of the worst of the debtors. Brand them. Flog them. It makes no difference." Catrine shuddered as he turned the brand in the fire.

"It still leaves a difference of 500 pounds owed to the Sheriff. How will beatings and blood pay that off?"

"The Sheriff will see that the debt is less. That's all that matters; it's a good 500 pounds less. By the next time, there should be no debt."

"I need," Guy turned to look at Catrine, "I need to prove myself worthy of my power; I will not loose it."

"Then do as you see fit, my love. What ever it is, I agree with you," Catrine moved to him and stroked his cheek and hair.

He walked passed her, exiting the manor and calling for his men- brand still in hand. The squadron stood at attention in front of their commander. "Follow me," Guy growled. Leger in hand, Guy strode over to the home of the highest debtor on the list. He knocked on the door with such force that the door almost fell of its hinges. A grimy man answered, wiping his dusty hands on his apron.

"James the potter, you have failed to meet your taxes by 30 pounds, and now you must pay the penalty." Guy turned to his men, "Arrest him and bring him by the fire."

Ignoring the screams of protest, Guy walked to the fire pit outside of the stables. He set the brand in the fire, leaving it there to warm up completely. His men had shackled the potter's hands. "Now gather the villagers; they need to see this"

"My lord, I'll get you the money," James the potter begged as he fell to his knees. "Just give me a month, a week even. Please have mercy…"

"Too late. Taxes were due today," Guy said as he turned the brand over in the fire again.

The village had gathered once more; Guy even saw Catrine on the edge of the crowd closest to the manor house. "People of Locksley, as your lord and master, I ask of you very little. But today you will see the consequences of disobedience." He pulled the brand from the fire; it's "D" shaped end glowing menacingly red with heat. "'D' for debtor, potter," Guy hissed. He grabbed his shackled right hand and pressed the searing hot brand into his skin. The smell of burning flesh filled Guy's nose, once a very familiar smell now made him half nauseous. He pulled the brand away, leaving a steaming 'D' on the man's hand. He pulled the man to his feet and held his work high into the air for all to see.

"I advise you all to pay your taxes!" Guy threw the man to the ground ordering his men to release the potter's shackles.

Now he had to face the Sheriff.

Catrine waited for him in the front of the manor, her eyes filled with a sort of coldness. "Had enough blood for today, my lord?" her voice was steady, almost monotone.

"Better his than mine, Catrine. The Sheriff will not be pleased, still. And now, I need to be at the castle to collect all the nobles taxes." Guy turned to grab Locksley's tax money.

Catrine grabbed it from the table first. "Let me go with you."

"I can't," Guy reached for the bag, but Catrine stepped away quickly.

"I go with the bag; it's either take me or go without your tax money," a mischievous smile lit Catrine's face.

"Have it your way, my love. But be ready to face the Sheriff."

"I'll be at your side for it all."

***

"Well, if it isn't Gisborne and Gisbornette. How charming, you've brought the whole family to work today," the Sheriff stood in front of the money room gazing at Guy and Catrine. He took the bag from Catrine's hands, weighing it in his hands. "Seems a bit light, wouldn't you agree?"

"500 pounds short," calculated the tax collector from within the room.

"Oh, I'm so disappointed. I hope you taught those ruffians a lesson."

"My lord Sheriff, I did. It shouldn't happen in the future." Guy met the Sheriff's stare.

"See that it doesn't, Gisborne. Well, it just won't do you know, and I consider you personally accountable. Don't give me that look, my lady," the Sheriff stared down Catrine whose eyes began narrowing. "You owe me a personal debt, Sir Guy. Fortunately for you, I have just the right occasion today."

"I'm at your disposal, Sheriff," Guy bowed.

"And… what about you, Lady Gisborne?" the Sheriff leaned close into Catrine.

"I do as my husband wishes," Catrine answered through clenched teeth.

"My, what a proper wife. Well, the assignment would be for your both, I suppose. You see, I need a certain person… taken care of… He's arriving today and, how should I put it, he shouldn't be leaving anytime soon. Unless it's in pieces or in a box."

"Who's the man, my lord," Catrine asked with obvious interest. The Sheriff doubled taked, taken off guard by this woman.

"Well, my lady, he is a knight returning from the Holy Land. His name is Sir Richard of Kent, and he is a close friend of the King, but… an enemy of Prince John. He is to return to King Richard with a report on the Prince's actions as Regent, and the Prince would rather not have stuffy faced knights prying around." The Sheriff began walking up the stairs and out onto a balcony overlooking Nottingham, leading Catrine and Guy.

"Your mission, should you choose to accept it, and you certainly will, is to kill this crusader in Sherwood Forest before he reaches Nottingham. Just make it look like a messy, ragged band of outlaws, take his purse or whatever. Complete this task successfully, and I count Locksley's taxes as paid in full. Agreed?"

"Yes Lord Sheriff," Guy answered, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword and bowing.

As they left, the Sheriff looked down over his city, "Lord and Lady Gisborne- most devious couple of the year."

***

"I told you not to come," Guy whispered to Catrine as they waited in the bushes along the North Road in Sherwood.

"I have three reasons against you: you have a better chance of being successful with two men than just one, a knight would never fight a woman, and finally, I can't let you have all the fun, can I?" Catrine's golden brown hair blew gently in the wind, highlighted by the black linen dress she wore.

Guy smiled, "Well argued Catrine." He smiled down at Catrine's hand as she gripped the hilt of a sword taken from the Nottingham Armory. Only she would dare fight with that, he thought.

They lay in the thickets quietly for sometime, until the forest sounds were interrupted by the sound of hoof beats in the distance. Guy nodded to Catrine as they separated to hide behind the trees.

A knight in a crusader's uniform came riding quickly along the road. Behind a large oak tree, Catrine hacked at a chord suspending from a branch, releasing a large dead tree trunk to fall to the ground in front of the horse and rider.

"What the hell is going on?" the knight cursed. Guy leaped out, threatening the knight with his sharp sword. "Common criminals shouldn't even dare to stop a knight newly returned from the Holy Land! This is an outrage."

Catrine stepped out, brandishing her sword as well, "Sir knight. We are by no means common criminals. If you are looking for one, you'd better search for him in a mirror."

"Why you bitch!" The knight reached for his own sword only to find that Guy had removed it in the distraction.

"Hahahah," Catrine's laugh resounded in the forest as she walked closer to the knight. "The noble, chivalrous Crusader would draw his sword at a woman. Common criminal," she spat to the ground beneath his feet.

"You have no right to speak that way to a lady," Guy threatened, stabbing the horse in the neck, slicing the artery. The horse collapsed under the knight, throwing him to the ground and pinning his leg underneath the now dead carcass. Sir Richard struggled to free himself in vain; he instead found two blades aimed at his throat. Guy bent down to remove his helmet.

"Will you show no mercy to a noble?" the knight begged, seeing a murderous glint in both their eyes.

Guy knelt down beside the knight, "You gave up hope of mercy from me by following a daft king into another country's battle. You abandoned your country, now I abandon mercy." Guy's small dagger moved to quickly for Catrine to even see. She saw blood squirt out and heard the gurgles from the knight's body; the body shook in convulsions before it at last lost all signs of life.

She reached down to the knight's belt for his purse, a leather bag now soaked through with blood. Guy stood up, his face and hands streaked red, red as Catrine's hands now were.

"Locksley is now free, my love," Catrine said, holding up the purse. Guy returned his sword to its scabbard and strode over to Catrine. He kissed her, full of passion and excitement. Catrine back up under his strength, leaning against a tree for support. She held her hands away as they dripped blood, and Guy's bloody hands braced himself against the tree. Guy pulled away; the sound of hoof beats grew stronger and stronger. He grabbed her hand and they ran off into the thick coverage of Sherwood.

Lady Marian stopped her horse in horror at the mangled mess in the road. How could common outlaws be this clean and gruesome? She navigated her horse around the bodies, riding with all speed for Nottingham to alert the Sheriff.

***

After cleaning up in a stream, Guy and Catrine rode back to Nottingham, both their bodies rushing with excitement. In the castle courtyard a familiar face was yelling at the Sheriff. Catrine bristled at the woman's voice, she apparently still asked too many questions.

"What do you mean? You won't even send soldiers to try and track down the murderers?" Marian couldn't contain her rage. She saw the Sheriff look away and smile- a smile a little to knowing.

"Ah Lord and Lady Gisborne? To what do I owe this pleasure? Tell me if I'm wrong, but I believe you've already met Lady Marian, steward of Locksley. Oops, former steward that is."

"My lady," Guy and Catrine both answered, curtsying and bowing in synch once again.

"I must go."

"You're father must expect you home early," Catrine taunted. Marian sent her a flaming look. Then she noticed a moneybag on Catrine's waist. The bag was dark with what looked like blood. And they both looked a bit too dirty. She came to her conclusion as she mounted her horse, staring at the couple dressed in black handing the Sheriff the moneybag as she turned her horse to leave.

"That woman is vile, and her husband plays along so well. Vile. Such a shame a handsome man would choose that woman," she shook her head violently to get rid of such a thought. No. Robin would never murder. And certainly never for the Sheriff.


	27. Chapter 27

The afternoon sunshine reflected everywhere around the millpond in Locksley, light glistened off the water's ripples, lighting Catrine's face as she took her walk. With Guy increasingly working for the Sheriff, Catrine found herself alone much more often, although she accompanied Guy to Nottingham as often as she could. Only sometimes, the Sheriff saw fit to only need his Lieutenant for a job. She remembered that tax day just over a week ago; the Sheriff smiled at her and Guy's success, saying he now had two lieutenants- one official and one under the table. It made a difference relying on two people who are so entirely in synch with each other; two for the price of one, really- the Sheriff had said.

But the few days she'd been alone, Catrine tried anything to fill them; most often, she rode to Nottingham anyway, finding Guy supervising an execution or a delivery of money to pay off a noble or instructing drills for his men. He never bragged about working on his own, merely saying there were some jobs that only men could perform. But his pride always shone on his face when he'd return to find her waiting in Locksley Hall, pride at his power and pride that he provided for his wife.

Today, she couldn't find Guy at Nottingham, so Catrine returned to the Locksley estate, riding to each town to supervise the farmers harvesting the summer crops and yelling at young boys and girls slacking in the strawberry fields.

Each time she heard hoof beats, Catrine looked up expectantly; Guy would return any moment now. She began heading slowly back to the manor house.

Suddenly Catrine heard multiple horses galloping at full speed towards the town, and she ran to meet the riders at the door. Three horsemen rode over the hill- Catrine's heart thrilled to recognize the first, her husband. The other, the Sheriff, Catrine was surprised to recognize, and the third was a middle-aged man she had never seen before. They came to a halt by the stables.

Guy jumped down off his horse to kiss his wife in greeting. "I've brought you visitors, my love. And I have missed you; you didn't even come spy on me today," Guy smirked.

Catrine giggled, "On the contrary, my lord, I did try and failed. And how did you ever notice?"

"I know when you're near," Guy kissed her again, longer and harder this time.

"Isn't it beautiful, Edmond," the Sheriff spoke to the stranger as he dismounted. "Almost two months married, and the newly-weds are still as in love as ever."

Edmond dismounted with a jump, his bright blond hair almost white in the sunlight. "I'm just excited to finally meet the infamous Lady Gisborne, my Lord Sheriff." The man walked over to where Catrine stood beside Guy. "I am Captain Edmond Grey, captain of the Sheriff's guard," Edmond bowed and kissed Catrine's hand.

"My lord," Catrine murmured as she dipped a small curtsey.

"Be careful, Captain," the Sheriff spoke as he removed his leather riding gloves. "This lady looks like a kitten, but little do you know she's a blood-thirsty lioness. She'll eat your heart if you even think about giving it to her. Right, Lady Catrine?"

"My lord Sheriff, I have never eaten anyone or anything's heart. But given the opportunity…"

Guy laughed. He knew Catrine was faithful, and even a joke about another man giving her his heart paled in comparison to his faith in her. She would eat that offending man's heart- perhaps not even just metaphorically, Guy smiled.

"To what do we owe this honor of having you both to our estate?" Catrine asked.

"Thought we'd join you two for a meal, hmm? We have some business to discuss," the Sheriff moved past Guy and Catrine into the house.

The other three followed. Catrine grabbed Guy's hand, "I had better inform Thornton, but there should be enough for us all, I believe." She left the men, walking towards the servants' quarters.

"She is truly stunning, Gisborne- a brilliant beauty. How did you manage to catch that one? You of all people?" Edmond taunted. He prided himself on the number of women he seduced in his life, a long list he started at the age of fifteen. And this Catrine intrigued him, to say the least.

"Well, it really is a long and complicated story," Guy said as he poured goblets of wine.

"Yes, spare us the details, Gisborne," the Sheriff took his cup and sat in a chair. "We can obviously see that there is just no separating you two. It's like they were made for each other, don't you agree, Grey?"

"Of course," Edmond drank deeply from his glass of wine.

Catrine returned, Guy handing her a glass of wine as well. He put his arm around her waist, drawing her nearer to where he stood against the wall.

"Now that you are here, let's talk business, shall we?" the Sheriff stretched his legs out in front of him. "Nottingham Castle is currently preparing to host an infamous guest, Sir Clifford Rodham, the spymaster for Prince John in his brother's camp. Sir Clifford is to stay in Nottingham on his way to meet the Prince to deliver letters, missives and reports on his brother's actions in the Holy Land, and we, lady and gentlemen, are to serve his every demand. We shall have a feast tomorrow night, with only us in attendance. I'd like to glean as much information from this spymaster as I can. I do so hate being out of the loop, you know."

The Sheriff sipped his wine. "Now, we must loosen his tongue enough to learn all we can. The finest wines and ales will help to this end, as will you, Lady Gisborne. Men always talk more freely about their adventures and whatnot to women than to other men. So you need not arm yourself to the teeth for this mission, my pet."

Guy felt Catrine silently laugh. "Of course, Sheriff."

"Good, business is finished then, and I'm positively starved."

Just then, Thornton arrived with more servants, each carrying a steaming trencher of food.

"I hope you like Locksley's pheasants, Sheriff," Catrine moved towards the table. "No hearts included, I'm afraid though."

***

The next morning, Catrine readied herself for the day. "Guy, do you think this dress alluring enough?" She spun around in a deep green dress and black bodice.

"It will be fine for tonight," he said buckling his leather jacket. "Though, personally, I find you most alluring with no dress." Guy walked over to Catrine, running in hand along her thigh, lifting away the light material.

"_Guy,_ I wish we had time…"'

"We can make time," his deep whisper tickling her ear as she felt his hand between her thighs, stroking her clit and slowly entering her.

"But… the Sheriff, ooh…" Catrine breathed.

"The Sheriff can wait."

"No, Guy, wait till we're through tonight," Catrine grabbed his hand. "And besides, I just can't get this dress dirty." She kissed him softly, finding he returned her kiss hungrily, his tongue already exploring her mouth, entwining with her own. She had to break away otherwise she wouldn't resist.

Edmond's words and lustful looks from last night danced in Guy's mind. "Determined to get to Nottingham? Anxious to see someone else?" Guy's hand tightened around Catrine's wrist.

"No, of course not," Catrine looked confused by his question. Genuine confusion, and no hint of guilt. Guy relaxed his grip. "What do you mean?"

"It's nothing. I just did not like letting Captain Grey enter my house yesterday."

"You didn't like him seeing me," Catrine smirked. "And now, I have a jealous husband determined to defend his wife from lustful bastards."

"It's the way he looks at you, as though you're naked."

"Don't you worry," Catrine ran her fingers in his hair. "I could never leave my Lord Gisborne, and besides, Captain Grey reminds me too much of a weasel. Especially with his squinty eyes and pointed nose." Catrine attempted to demonstrate her description, and Guy laughed knowing she told the truth from her heart.

***

"Waiting at Nottingham Castle is very tedious business," thought Guy. All day he and Catrine had been in the Great Hall waiting; Sir Clifford Rodham was due to arrive any time that day. "Bastard had to decide to arrive this late," Guy thought. He looked out the window into the empty courtyard. Captain Grey had been dropping in on him and his wife all day to talk. He really did look like a weasel, now that Catrine had mentioned it. He kept trying to convince her to escort him to this place or that, out to the market or to observe the soldiers training. "Bastard," he thought again.

At least Catrine warded off his advances, though she clearly enjoyed toying with his emotions through gentle refusal. He was grateful to be able to read her like a book; she could hide nothing from him. He looked over to her as she sat at the long table, the top covered in a brilliant red brocade tablecloth all ready for the spymaster's arrival.

She looked up at Guy and patted the seat next to her at the table. "Husband," she cooed, "I'm sorry about this morning. You must be so disappointed."

"I just expect you to make it up to me later, my love," Guy sat down.

"How about now?" Catrine's voice quivered with excitement. She slipped off her chair to the ground, disappearing under the red tablecloth. Guy felt her hands wandering up his legs; he knew he should stop her, but at least no one would see her, he thought.

He felt his pants loosen as she unlaced them, unbuckling his belt. Her fingers explored his member, tracing its length, rubbing his groin. Then he felt her lips kissing along his cock, her hands exploring up the inside of his tunic. He grew hard and his breathing deepened, hands gripping into the tablecloth. She took him into her mouth, her tongue running along the length of his cock.

The doors to the hall opened, and Edmond's voice called out for Lady Gisborne. He had a sprig of lavender in his hands. Guy stared at him from the table, feeling Catrine unchecked by Edmond's presence. Guy craned his neck back in frustration; he had been in similar situations before.

"Sir Guy, where is your wife? I have something for her that I know she has long desired."

"She's… occupied at the moment, Captain… and I'm sure whatever you have… for her… she has already… received," Guy tried to keep his voice steady. He could feel Catrine laughing as she caressed his member.

"Well, I hardly think so. But we'll see, won't we. I'll just wait for her here," he stood with his back to Guy, looking out the window.

Guy breathed deeply, feeling his muscles tensing; why couldn't this bastard leave him alone? He forgot his thoughts as he stifled a groan, feeling the final waves of pleasure pass through his body. He released the tablecloth and felt under the table, running his fingers through Catrine's hair as she laced up his pants again. He traced her smile and she returned by gently sucking his finger.

She crawled away to the other side of the long table, the end closest to the hall's doors. Slowly and silently standing, she saw that Edmond had his back to her still. She smoothed out her dress.

"Oh, Captain Grey. You're back again so soon?"

"Where…" Edmond turned around. "How… the doors…" He saw dust on her dress and a knowing smirk on her face. He glanced at Guy who still breathed loudly, and was that a light sweat on his forehead? Catrine rubbed her lips and smiled again.

Edmond was no fool, his gaze narrowed. "Well, I can see that you two have had no problems with entertaining yourself in this waiting game." He threw the sprig of lavender to the ground. "But I'm not through yet, my Lady." He stormed out of the doors, heaving them open with a loud squeak.

Catrine walked over to Guy and began kissing his rough and stubbled cheek.

"You really have the most amazing timing, Catrine, when it comes to this sort of thing."

"Nothing gives me more pleasure than pleasing you. While hurting others of course."


	28. Chapter 28

Finally, an elaborately armored coach rolled into the courtyard of Nottingham Castle, the outside entirely layered with sheets of metal. The Sheriff, Captain Grey and Lord and Lady Gisborne all stood on the steps of the castle to welcome their guest. The pair of roan horses pulled the carriage to a halt, and the iron door to the carriage squeaked open. Out stepped a man with bright white hair, his face lined with a thinning white beard, his hair appearing even brighter against his black robes.

"Ah, Sir Clifford Rodham! What a pleasure to see you once again. It has been years," the Sheriff stepped forward to meet the knight.

"Fortunately it has been years," Sir Clifford's nasally voice spoke in monotone.

The Sheriff flashed a small, nervous smile.

"I joke, Vaysey. Now who are all these young people?" Sir Clifford patted the Sheriff on the back.

"Ah, well," the Sheriff replied as his humor returned, "this is the captain of my guard, Edmond Grey, my lieutenant, Sir Guy of Gisborne, and his charming wife, Lady Catrine Gisborne."

"A pleasure," Sir Clifford bowed and moved in front of Catrine, "especially to meet you, my dear," kissing her hand. "Now Vaysey, where is the meal you've been promising me for years. I'm keenly interested in your wine cellar of course."

"Right this way, my lord," Catrine led the men into the manor to the Great Hall. The hall was lit brilliantly with tapers, and steaming, enticing food laid on the table. Sheriff Vaysey moved to sit at the head of the table, Sir Clifford to his right and Guy to his left. Catrine moved to sit beside her husband, but the Sheriff cleared his throat, subtly pointing to the open seat next to Sir Clifford. Catrine gave Guy a piercing look, and he merely shrugged in return. Edmond's rodent-like face smiled at her from across the table.

"Now, Sir Clifford, how about some wine?" the Sheriff handed him a large canter of fragrant red wine.

"Ah finally! You know, of all the things I missed most in the Holy Land, it was French wine." He filled his glass and drank it all in one loud gulp.

"Oh, Sir Clifford! How exciting! What news do you have from the Holy Land?" Catrine asked coyly, taking the canter and refilling his glass.

"Well, my beauty, I have seen things, and even done things, that are most certainly not fit for your ears. And certain things are for the Prince's ears only," Sir Clifford picked up his glass once more to drink.

"Oh, that is no fun, my lord," Catrine demurely whined. Guy smiled, he knew this show of interest only too well; fortunately it worked nearly all the time.

"Is the King well, Sir Clifford?" Guy chimed in as Clifford began biting into the large turkey leg on his plate.

"Excellently so.. Gisborne was it?... yes. The King meets with great success, most of the time- both in battle and in negotiations. And fortunately for us, he has little idea that Prince John has replaced Bishop Longchamps as Regent. Not that he'd return from the war if he knew." Catrine reached over to fill his glass again.

"My, my dear, you are most accommodating."

"It is nothing my lord, I can only imagine all the horrors you've seen. It is the least I can do."

"I've seen enough blood shed to dye a dress in. Yes, in the fields outside of Jerusalem alone. The walls were spattered with blood, no wonder we failed at that attempt," Sir Clifford picked the last bits of meat from his turkey leg.

"Surely the King lost most of his men then?" Edmond asked, prying a gaze in Catrine direction, which she returned coldly.

"Oh yes, a lot. Only after that did new recruits come, including mostly nobles. Actually now that I think of it, many young men and nobles from this shire. Yes, not a few months after their arrival, one young knight took it upon himself to assassinate the leader of a most terrible group of Turks. He succeeded, but ended up being caught, the foolish man. Thought he could go out on his own to change the world single-handedly. Now what was his name… Rodger? Richard? No that's the King…"

"Uh, that wouldn't have been a certain, Robin of Locksley now, would it?" the Sheriff smiled as he spoke over the rim of his wine glass.

"Yes! That's it. Robin!" Sir Clifford reached for the wine again. Guy caught Catrine's eyes. He found a brilliant gleam in them, the same gleam he felt in his own eyes.

"Well," Catrine casually stated, sipping from her own glass, "with the leader gone, the faction must have fallen rather easily. Remove the head and the snake will die."

"My lady knows much about war strategy," Clifford's nasal voice slurring words already. "Interesting. Well yes, the faction fell. And the King met with even more success in battle. He really seems to be winning, my lords."

Sir Clifford filled his glass once more. "Nearly every paper I bring to the Prince tells the tale of a victory. Tales that are now very close to my heart, in fact." The knight turned to face Catrine, his glass spilling a bit of wine on her arm. "You know, my lady, there are even prevalent rumors that the King may return within the year, but you didn't hear it from me." He grabbed her hand to kiss it. Guy stared at the Sheriff, half in victory, half in anger at the knight's advances. Catrine cocked her head as she returned his looks as if to say, don't be stupid, Guy.

Dinner proceeded on, and the Sheriff and Catrine continually plied him with wine. They learned all about the King and his entourage and the most recent battles.

Sir Clifford's voice slurred and grew in volume. "You know," he said to the Sheriff, "I have a secret to tell you."

"Oh I do so love secrets," said the Sheriff as he leaned in towards Sir Clifford.

"Even though I'm the Prince's spymaster, I have the greatest fear of being caught on the wrong side… Which is why," Clifford said in the loudest whisper, "which is why I plan to become a much richer man. These papers and missives I have will make me rich. And out of the Prince's pocket too!" Sir Clifford smiled cockily.

"Now, what ever could you mean by that?" the Sheriff whispered back.

"I mean, my dear Vaysey, that I will make the Prince pay for his information and then hide away with friends loyal to the King. It's a foolproof plan."

"You are absolutely brilliant, my friend," said the Sheriff filling his glass once again. But it was too late, Sir Clifford passed out with his face in a bowl of berries.

"Well done, my friends, well done," the Sheriff congratulated, calling over guards to remove Sir Clifford to his bedroom.

"Now, we need a war council of our own. We can't just let this drunk turn a turncoat, now can we?" the Sheriff stood, resting his hands on the table.

"Well, my lord Sheriff, if I may be so bold as to make an observation," Catrine spoke. "His entire plan centers around this packet of reports and missives. If we remove them from him, then he is powerless against the Prince and the King."

"Excellently put, my lady," the Sheriff returned. "But why not find a solution with a benefit closer to home. You are excused, Lady Gisborne."

"My lord?" Catrine asked coldly.

"I need my men in my council, and you must be exhausted after today. Run along to bed now," the Sheriff shooed her away. Catrine rose from the table, glaring daggers at the Sheriff. It was her plan. She had done everything to question Sir Clifford, and this was how her loyalty was repaid by the Sheriff. This was not acceptable.

Guy rose to walk her out of the hall. "I'm sorry, my love, but it's best this way. Don't dirty your hands in this business," he reached to kiss her hand. Catrine pulled it away before his lips even neared her skin.

"_Guy, _" she said straightly, standing on the threshold.

"Don't make this difficult Catrine. Get to bed." Guy closed the door to the hall, locking Catrine out.

She kicked the locked door and walked away. She had to show them what she was capable of.


	29. Chapter 29

Catrine walked up the stair towards the castle's sleeping quarters, finding the room assigned to Sir Clifford. She leaned her ear against the door, hearing heavy snoring from within. Taking matters into her own hands would show the Sheriff; she was just as necessary to the Sheriff's power as Guy, and this would show him.

Removing her shoes outside of the door, she slid the door open silently, creeping into the room. She snuck quietly to Sir Clifford's sleeping form, gazing intently for his hiding place for the papers. "Close to my heart, in fact," he had said at dinner. She looked closely at his back robes. There. Beneath his left shoulder, a thin seam and a thick patch of material. That must be it. Catrine gently touched the area, feeling the hardness of the parchment beneath the fabric. Sir Clifford didn't even stir at her gentle touch.

Her fingers slipped into the thin pocket, and she gently extracted a small stack of papers. Again, no movement from Sir Clifford's drunken sleep.

She had won, she thought as she snuck out of the room, closing the door silently behind her. She ran to the Great Hall; she was already done with her plan while the stupid men inside argued about theirs within the hall's doors. She pounded on the door, and Edmond opened it.

Catrine pushed him out of her way as she strode triumphantly into the hall. "My lord, you have a plan? Or are you men still hammering it out?"

"Catrine…" Guy growled. She ignored him, walking over to the Sheriff seated in his chair. She gave him the packet of missives.

"Close to his heart, in fact. My lord Sheriff, I bring you what you desired."

The Sheriff took the papers, a blank stare returning her triumphantly arrogant smile.

"Thank you, my lady. Now, won't you run along to bed?"

Catrine curtsied and whispered to Guy as she walked out, "I'll be waiting for you."

She shut the doors triumphantly behind her.

The Sheriff's anger blazed across his face. "Well, this will certainly not do. How am I supposed to blackmail a blackmailer for the shirt off his back when I have in my hand the very leverage I had against him? Hmm, Gisborne? Can your wonderfully clever wife answer me that one?"

Guy stared down to the ground, his hands clenching in quiet anger.

"Edmond, go fix this problem. Replace the papers with phony ones. At least I can keep the real ones. I trust you to patch this blunder up."

Edmond walked out of the room. Gisborne tried to follow.

"Uh uh uh, Gisborne. Just a word of warning for you before you leave. I warned you, your wife was dangerous. Dangerously close to slipping out of your control. How are you supposed to control your men if you can't even control your own wife? Hmm? Just something to… ponder… Gisborne."

Guy stared at the Sheriff, "I will control her, my lord Sheriff. I'll see to that." He left the hall.

"A husband's duty, then Sir Guy?" the Sheriff called out just before the great doors closed.

***

Catrine looked out through the windows in the hall just outside of her and Guy's sleeping quarters. She couldn't wait to celebrate her victory with him tonight. She wore her thin white shift, linen that clinged to her every curve. The she heard the sound of Guy's footsteps on the stairs, footsteps she would recognize anywhere.

Guy walked up to her, avoiding her amorous gaze. He grabbed her hand tightly and led her into the open door to their bedroom. She followed willingly, walking over to the bed. She turned to face him, resting her hands on her hips and standing astride, waiting for him to turn to see her exuding her power.

He did not turn, closing the door slowly and then even slower drawing the bolt, locking the door. He turned, still staring at the floor, his dark hair covering his face.

"Why?" his voice was like ice, cold and unrelenting. "Why do you insist on disobeying me? Why do you do this to me?"

Catrine's heart quivered with fear. He couldn't be crying. She shifted her stance, dropping her arms to her side.

Guy finally looked up, his eyes as icy as his voice, drilling into her with their anger.

"Some husbands do not allow their wives the liberties I give you. Some husbands punish their wives for everything, some for nothing," his hands clenched at his side.

Catrine shook in fear, backing herself away. He wouldn't beat me, she thought. Yet she backed herself against the wall.

He stepped closer, his hand white with his tense anger. "I never thought I would have to be like those husbands." He stood in front of her leaning in towards her, his rage almost palpable in his cold grey eyes. "Until tonight, that is."

Catrine's face turned under the impact. His fist struck her check with such force; she smashed into the wall, clinging to its roughness for support. She whimpered in pain, her shaking hand reaching for her cheek, pulling it away to see her finger tips covered in blood.

"You disobeyed my authority; I looked like a fool in front of the Sheriff!" Guy's voice rang in her ears, her head swimming in pain. "You have no respect for my authority as the Sheriff's man, or as your husband!"

Catrine struggled to get up. She released a sob of pain, clutching her bleeding and bruised cheek. "And now, Catrine, I must fulfill a husband's duty," his voice lowered again into a growl. He reached his arm back again to strike.

Catrine bolted, running for the door on the other side of the room. Guy was quicker, jumping into her and throwing her to the ground. His weight crushed her, knocking all her air from her lungs. Catrine couldn't move. She tasted her own blood.

He stood up, unbuckling his leather belt. He held the metal in his hand tightly. Catrine tried to crawl away, gasping for air. The leather sang through the air onto her back; once, twice, three times. Each lash drawing a thin line of blood, seeping through the thin white material on her back.

Catrine shuddered to the ground, her mind empty of thoughts, filled with only pain. She tried to stand, staggering up, tears dripping down her face as Guy replaced his belt around his waist. She lunged at him, wanting to return the favor.

Guy caught her hands, his grip like iron, his face hard and his eyes colder than before. "Not tonight. Turns out you're not the only one willing to do everything necessary to get what they want." With one strong motion, he pushed her onto the bed.

Catrine closed her eyes, expecting his weight to crush her again. Instead she heard the bolt unlock and the door open.

She sat shaking on the bed, her cheek and back throbbing. Her mind raced in images. She and Guy had both crossed the line tonight. She tried to collect herself, desiring nothing else but to leave that room. She stumbled to her feet off the bed and walked out the door.


	30. Chapter 30

Catrine wandered into the moonlight, not knowing where to go. She just had to move, to leave, to get away. She wandered down the hallway, descending the stairs and down another corridor. Finally stopping, Catrine found herself in a hall connected with the castle stables. She breathed in the scent of air, hay and horses.

Something from behind her scuffled, and Catrine turned to face the noise. Edmond's weasel face peered back at her from the shadows in the corner. "My, you're out for a walk late tonight, Lady Gisborne." He drank her in, her blonde hair mussed and tangled and her thin white shift draping over her body. He had heard the ruckus between her and Guy and followed Catrine here. "You'll be pleased to know that I've fixed the ramifications of your little incident. The Sheriff will surely forgive you, but," he paused, stepping towards her, touching her bleeding cheek, "apparently it will take more for your husband's forgiveness."

Catrine shuddered, knowing he knew. She stepped back a bit, but she lacked the strength to respond, or move, or speak. She only heaved a heavy sob.

"Oh, my lady, please don't cry. If only you'd let me wipe away your tears," he pulled out a cloth. "And I'll wipe away the blood," and he did. His touch felt cold against her hot skin. Still she remained silent. His hand dropped the cloth, wandering down her neck down to her breast. His fingers traced down her middle and then between her legs. "I told you earlier that I wasn't finished. You have no idea how badly I want you now, especially after knowing what you did to Guy under the table."

Catrine found her voice again. She called for help once, and then all she could shout was Guy's name as loud as she could over and over. Edmond pushed her into a pile of hay to shut her up. She landed face down, still screaming for Guy. Edmond's weight pressed into her, driving her hips into the stone beneath the hay. She felt his hands wander up her legs, lifting her shift around her waist. She felt him loosen his own pants and lean down on her, his erection pressing hard against her butt.

"If you relax, you'll discover just how skilled I am, Catrine," Edmond's voice chuckled at his victory. She tensed, waiting for the pain, waiting for him to enter her.

But it never happened.

Instead she felt warm liquid spray over her back and heard a familiar gurgling sound. Edmond's body fell off of her, and Catrine felt a hand on her shoulder, helping her sit up. Her eyes were filled with Guy, holding his dagger bloodied in his hand. He had come. And Catrine began to cry again.

Guy cleaned his dagger on Edmond's clothes and returned it to its scabbard. He lifted Catrine up by both hands, and she clung to him, crying into the soft fabric of his tunic. His hands caressed her neck and hair, soothing her as her breath steadied.

His voice was warm once again as he whispered to her, "It is also a husband's duty to protect his wife, the woman he loves most."

He stepped away from Catrine and pulled off his tunic, wrapping it around her for warmth and to cover the bloodstains, standing shirtless in the moonlight. "Let's go get you cleaned up a bit."

He walked Catrine towards the kitchen, calling for a servant. He ordered a bath prepared for Catrine immediately. The servant looked at Catrine's weariness and Guy's half-naked body, somewhat confusedly, then ran to complete the order.

He walked her into the bath room where a large wooden tub was already being filled with steaming water by servants. Catrine reached into the water, feeling the warmth wrapping around her hand. Guy left her feeling the water for a moment, returning with a bowl filled with rose petals, each as red a blood. As the servants poured the last pitcher of water into the tub, Guy took a handful of petals and crumpled them up, tossing them into the water. The light scent of roses filled the air.

Catrine breathed deeply, closing her eyes. She felt Guy's hands remove the tunic from around her shoulders, then her shift. His touch was caring and caressing, but not hungry as it often was. She opened her eyes as Guy extended his hand to help her into the water. As she stepped in, the water's warmth shocked Catrine; she slowly started to ease herself into the heat, feeling each of her tense muscles relax from the day's strain. The water rose up to her neck as she sank down deeper. Then she felt water gently pouring over her hair; she opened her mouth, letting the water trickle between her lips. Guy's fingers ran between the wet strands of her hair, massaging the scented water through.

He gently pushed her up, his hands washing away the last few remnants of blood from her back; he traced the thin lines of her own blood from his belt. He felt her shudder beneath his touch, and she turned around in the water. Droplets of water remained on her neck and breasts; her cheek now was only a shade darker.

Her wet hand grabbed his hand, pulling him over the tub. Her hand dripped water over his arm; she reached for his chest, gently touching its sinewy lines. Water dripped down his front. He looked into her eyes, seeing forgiveness, gratitude and love. She pulled him even closer as her dripping hand reached to undo his belt buckle, feeling her back sting in remembrance. Guy stepped out of his pants, and, still holding her hand, stepped into the tub of water.

Water flowed over the edge, spilling onto the floor. Guy sank down beside Catrine. One red rose petal clung to her shoulder. He picked it off of her wet skin, floating it back in the water. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and she cuddled into the crook of his neck, dripping water on his chest from her fingers. She breathed deeply, the scent of roses and the scent of his skin numbed her mind of everything that happened that day.

She kissed the base of his neck, "I love you," she breathed before falling asleep in the warmth of the water and his arm.


	31. Chapter 31

Noises of activity floated through the windows of Locksley Hall. Horses whinnied from the stables, hammers and saws working away constructing, and the voices of hundreds of people echoed. Catrine stood looking at the masses of people and animals outside from the bedroom window. Already this place was filled with happy memories of her married life, a life she never dreamed would be hers over a year ago.

She felt Guy's arms wrap around her waist, and she leaned back onto his shoulder. "Happy anniversary, my love. Just think, one year ago you tried to murder me in this very room." Guy murmured in her ear.

Her hand reached up, lacing itself in his hair, as she loved to do. "I'm very glad I didn't. And besides, otherwise the Sheriff would never have thrown us this tournament in honor of our marriage one year ago."

"Yes, I suppose it is thoughtful for him to do something for us after all this time of working for him," Guy rocked Catrine slowly back and forth.

A servant appeared at the open bedroom door. "Sir Guy, the platform is finished now and they're bringing in the targets now. The Sheriff wants you both outside, when it's at your convenience."

"Of course," Catrine replied, and they proceeded down the stairs into the sunlight. The Sheriff stood just outside the manor overseeing all the action, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Ah! The guests of honor are here. Happy anniversary, by the way." The Sheriff began walking to the large raised platform constructed just that day. Three chairs had been placed behind the rail, every inch of the rail and the chairs draped in black and yellow. "Do you like it, my dears?"

"Yes Sheriff!" Catrine's voice ebullient with joy. Though he never quite forgot the incident with the traitor spymaster, the Sheriff admired Catrine's loyalty, and also her cruelty. She and Guy had proved themselves indispensible, and by catching the traitor and turning in the reports to Prince John, the Sheriff was rewarded by receiving regular updates on the Crusades from the Prince's own men. In return, the Sheriff collected and read as many letters to the Holy Land as he physically could. And he had learned quite a bit. He smiled at this thought.

Catrine grabbed Guy's hand in joy, leading him up the stairs to the chairs. "Guy, you must sit in the middle, between me and the Sheriff, oh you must, Guy!"

"Oh, yes you must, Guy," the Sheriff mocked from behind. With a wave of his hands, trumpets sounded and the targets put in place. The crowd gathered around the five lanes, the straw targets 20 paces away from the starting line.

The Sheriff stood up from his chair on Guy's left. "People of Locksley. Today we celebrate your lord, Sir Guy, his wife, Lady Catrine, and their wedding anniversary. To celebrate their happiness, the best archer in today's contest wins a prize. The prize, is any tangible trinket or monetary reward requested by the victor, within reason. Now, archers, step up to the line." Five men stood with their arrows at the ready. "On your marks, get set, arch!" The Sheriff sat back down, lounging back in his chair.

Catrine sat on the edge of her seat, watching these cloaked men fire arrows into the targets. One arrow hit the target dead on, right in the middle, its archer a man in a red cape. Guy looked on with mild interest, more interested in Catrine's rapture. The Sheriff began nodding off, falling asleep in the warm breezes.

The targets were moved to 30 paces away, half the archers remained, and still one arrow hit the target dead on. The same happened at 50 paces, only five archers remained. And one arrow stuck right in the bull's-eye from the red-cloaked man.

At last only two archers remained. Catrine gazed intently at the competitors, one a grown man with chestnut hair and a beak-like nose; the other the stranger in a red cape, his face always obscured by the hood. The targets were to be moved to 75 paces, but Catrine stood up, calling over the crowd.

"No! Move the target to 100 paces." Guy looked at her curiously, and the Sheriff startled out of his sleep at her voice.

"Catrine?" Guy asked her, "What are you doing?"

"I'm raising the stakes, my love. I'm just feeding the competition," she replied to Guy. She nodded to the archers, "Proceed," she ordered with half a smile on her face. Each archer drew their bow to shoot; with a loud twang, the arrows whistled through the air- one arrow went wide. The other hit its mark, dead in the center.

"Looks like we have a winner," the Sheriff commented under his breath. "Bring the victor here!"

The man in the red cap stepped to the edge of the pavilion, falling down on one knee.

"Claim your prize, or rather, name your prize- anything within reason," the Sheriff stood leaning on the rail.

The stranger flipped down his red hood; Will Scarlett's face peered up to the Sheriff and then to Catrine where she was seated.

"I'd like to speak to Lady Gisborne, Lord Sheriff."

Catrine stood and moved beside the Sheriff.

"One year ago, I sold you a necklace of my mother, the very same necklace you wear now. I ask that as my prize," Will's determination set on his face.

Catrine's gaze hardened. This necklace was now hers, bought for twice its value, reminding her of her first days as Lady Gisborne. No peasant should ask for this from her. She turned her back to the crowd, now facing Guy. He read the look in her eye, knowing how much the necklace meant to her; he stepped forward as well.

"You sold this necklace to pay your taxes, a debt you only were able to pay because of Lady Gisborne's generosity. And now, you ask for it back?" Guy interrogated the peasant.

"It was my mother's. And my prize is anything I name," Will's face hardening even more.

"No. The rule is anything with in… reason," the Sheriff returned.

The crowd grew restless at this exchange; clearly opinions were being formed, and not in favor of their master and mistress. Another familiar face came forward out of the crowd. Her face paler than Catrine last saw it, her gaze was filled with a sense of self-assurance.

"How is this unreasonable, my Lord Sheriff?" Lady Marian stood beside Will.

Catrine's stare hardened will anger. "And what do you think gives you authority here anymore, Lady Marian?" Catrine spoke through clenched teeth. "You have no right."

"Look, young man, we'll give you five pounds as reward; that's more than double what you'd ever get for that silly necklace anyway," the Sheriff held up a small purse, dangling it and twirling it in his hands. He tossed it over the rail and it landed at Will's feet. "Congratulations, boy. You've won a contest, and a prize."

"And a new enemy," Catrine fumed under her breath. "You, and that bitch Marian."

***

Long tables for feasting replaced the archery lanes, and the most delicious food. At the high table, Catrine merely picked at her food, still irritated by Will and Marian. Guy grabbed her hand as it hovered over her plate. "Not enjoying yourself, my love?"

"It's nothing, Guy. I just can't stand Maid Marian and her outbursts of boldness. She knows nothing of politics or power. Three years alone, without her lover, and she still holds on to the very last memories of power. She doesn't even know exactly what Robin is even doing in the Holy Land," Catrine stated in irritation, spitting out the words 'Robin' and 'Holy Land.'

"Ah, my lady brings up an excellent point, and actually also, consequently one of the main events of today," the Sheriff added from the other side of Guy.

"You know, Gisborne, I've been thinking lately, what with us knowing all about the Crusades and just how well Richard is doing, I think we might be acting a teeny, weeny bit selfish. So I thought to myself, why not share some of these… charming little anecdotes… with the people, hmm?"

The Sheriff stood and walked over between Guy and Catrine, pulling out a pile of papers. "In fact, there's one letter in here," the Sheriff waved a parchment, "that I know you, Lady Catrine, will… thoroughly enjoy. It has to do with your favorite nosy maiden." The Sheriff stood up straight. "Call this my anniversary gift to you."

"People of Locksley," the Sheriff called out over the din, still standing between Guy and Catrine. All eyes turned towards the high table. "In honor of today, I'd like to give a toast to the happy couple on their anniversary. And I'd also like to share with you all some news and stories from the war in the Holy Land."

The Sheriff shuffled the papers to demonstrate. "Knowledge is power, my friends. And I hold the answers in the palm of my hand, literally," he smiled. "Now let's see. Ah! Here's a good story, a charming tale about how 300 men under King Richard were slaughtered, and another 100 taken prisoner in an attack against Jerusalem." He turned another page, "Oh, another about how due to the shortage of food in the dessert, the troops were forced to kill their horses just to survive for a month. And yet another about how diseases known as 'The Turk Flu' wiped out one in every five men. Now, isn't that a shame?"

The Sheriff set all the paper down except one. "Now, good and loyal servants of the King seek to do everything they can to help our gallant men fighting in the Holy Land, which means paying your taxes," the Sheriff said, emphasizing the last three words.

"And now, the best for last," the Sheriff spoke to Guy and Catrine, leaning in momentarily. He waved the paper open. Catrine could see the handwriting from where she sat, reading the words, "Marian," and "Robin," on the page. A smirk slowly grew across her face as she reached for Guy's hand under the table. She could sense where this was going.

"I'd like to tell you all a heart-wrenching story from this war, one that will strike you all as very close to home. It is the story about a young man and a young woman who fall in love…. become engaged…. Lah-di-dah-di-dah… And then, three years ago, he leaves her to fight for king and country and all the rest."

Catrine's eyes fixed on Marian, seated at the end of a table just near to her own. She saw her lips trembling and her eyes tearing. A smirk danced over Catrine's lips as she listened to the Sheriff, holding Guy's hand tightly.

"These lovers corresponded over the years," the Sheriff continued, "passing endearments and stories between them. They feel themselves separated over their distance and their experiences. And now, today, we conclude this tale, right here, right now." The Sheriff looked down to the paper.

He cleared his throat eminently, and began,

_Dear Marian,_

_What we had is dead, as I am dead. You can never understand the things that I have seen here and I am a different man than the boy you loved. You were a childhood love; you cannot be part of my future. I hereby release you from all of your promises to me, both as my fiancée, and as my steward. Go back to your father; he may have some use for you still. Marry another. _

_Robin_

"Now, doesn't that sound like budding romance?" The Sheriff crumpled up the letter, tossing over the table to the ground by where Marian sat. Horror etched across her face, Marian trembled at the Sheriff's words. She looked up to the table, staring at the Sheriff's smug smile, Guy's gaunt, unmoved face, and Catrine's blazing eyes which silently sang her victory. She slowly stood up, walking over the crumpled letter, feeling all eyes watching her every move. Her heart broke for all the world to see, humiliated in front of the only people who had supported her for years. Quiet anger began welling up inside her. For years these people have allowed themselves to be victimized, totally under the power of the Sheriff. And yet, no one, not one of the many people who had loved Robin, stood up against the Sheriff or his cruel henchman and his bitch who now ran Robin's lands.

She smoothed out the letter and felt her last shred of hope dissolve as she recognized Robin's handwriting.

In her anger, Marian's found her voice, calling out to the masses, "People of Nottingham, does this sound like the Robin of Locksley you have known? " She waved the letter in the air, "Because I hear nothing," her voice broke and she swallowed, "_Nothing_ of Robin of Locksley in this.

"You have seen what the Sheriff can do, you have seen the power he has. And now you see what this war is doing to the people you love! Why have you done nothing to stop it?"

Her voice shook again and she crumpled up the letter again in her fist. Her green eyes glowed with her emotion as she turned, staring down the Sheriff. To her surprise, he began clapping slowly.

"Oh, bravo. Most stirring. A bold attempt to divert the attention from… you. My dear, I'm not done, and it's in such bad taste to interrupt." The Sheriff pulled out one more sheet from his robe. "This is an official report, from the King himself, about the activities in his camp. On this particular day, good King Richard named a new head to his private guard, one Sir Robin of Locksley. During the banquet in honor of his new captain, the King writes, Sir Robin knelt before his majesty, asking but one favor. His only desire, Robin said, was to attain the King's own consort and interpreter, Laena, taking her as his own." The Sheriff placed the parchment on the table.

"Now, I'm not much experienced in the ways of young lovers, but my advice to you, Lady Marian, would be to move on. As Robin says, marry another."

Marian felt the world swim before her eyes as she recognized that name from Robin's own letters. Her eyes went black as she felt her strength give out. Then two arms caught her, steadying her feet. She looked into the face of Will Scarlett who began walking her away from the scene.

"There you go, my lady, there's a perfect boy for you already. Well done!" the Sheriff called after the two of them. "Well, carry on, strike up the band again! It's still a feast at any rate!"

Catrine watched as Marian and Will receded into the hills around Locksley. Marian's humiliation would keep her away for a while; still more could be done, more could always be done.

As the feasting grew in volume, the Sheriff turned to Guy, "Clearly, we have a new enemy, and not just an adversary for your wife to antagonize. Her little speech is enough to stir a revolt, something I really don't want to deal with. Gisborne, I want you to organize surveillance on Marian; I want to know who she sees, where she goes, and I want to read every letter she writes or receives. Her father too, the old Sheriff has interest in having me fail. This job will be subtle, no violence, understand?"

"Yes, Sheriff. It should be easy. She won't even know she's being watched," Guy replied.

Catrine turned around, having heard everything that transpired. "Well, why not have a woman help spy on a woman? I would understand Marian much better, my lord Sheriff."

"Not this time, Catrine. I don't want to risk your cat claws tearing that poor kitten to shreds. We need her to not realize our presence, and I know you'd want yourself to be... known… shall we say?" The Sheriff stared Catrine right in the eye. "Besides, we wouldn't want a repeat of the incident with Sir Clifford Rodham, now would we?" The Sheriff saw Catrine catch Guy's eye and turn her head away.

Catrine hated being reminded of that. She began replaying the scene in her mind, but then she felt Guy's hand on her back, its warmth relaxing her, reassuring her of his love.

"Good, glad you understand. And besides, I'm sure you'll follow your husband's every move," the Sheriff commented as he rose from the table. "Happy anniversary, my lovelies. Have a good night, sleep well… or not…" He walked away, leaving Guy and Catrine to the rest of their feast.


	32. Chapter 32

Finally, all the people cleared the area, returning to their homes. Guy waited anxiously for this feast to be over, and now at last, they were alone. Catrine had fallen asleep on his shoulder at the table; he hadn't wanted to wake her until it was all over. Now, he stroked her hair, kissing her cheek, "Catrine, you've fallen asleep at your own feast," he gently laughed, leaning his head on hers.

She lifted her head up, her eyes dreamy still, looking at him with a smile and then around the area. Already sunset, how long had she been sleeping, she wondered. She looked away from the sky filled with brilliant reds and golds and some dark blues already. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around Guy's neck, cuddling back into his neck.

"Happy anniversary," she breathed.

"Catrine, I have one more surprise for you. After a day filled with surprises, this one is from me. But you'll have to wake up to… fully enjoy it…"

Catrine sat up, trying to shake off her sleep. Guy loved her most when they were alone like this: no politics, no hatred, no worries about power. Her golden brown hair glimmered in the dying light; he moved in to kiss her. Her lips were warm and gentle under his. Her love excited him still after being with her for so long. He grew hungry, but first he had something to give her. He pulled away.

Catrine looked up at him as he extended his hand and stood. He began leading her away from the tables, away from the manor and the houses and the fences. They walked as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, the air still warm from the summer sun. The first stars began to peer down from the dark blue sky. Catrine followed where ever he led her, and after a while, she had to ask, "Where are we going, my love?"

"You'll see soon," Guy said, looking back at her with half a smile on his face. They walked to the top of a small hill. "Look familiar?" Guy asked as he drew Catrine closer. She looked around them, the grass grew short on the hill, and patches of wildflowers grew around them. The moonlight on the flowers reminded her of days long gone.

"The hill where we played as children," she breathed turning around to face him. "It's beautiful and looks just the same. You however are much more handsome," her voice grew lower and softer. She moved into kiss him, feeling his arms pull her closer into him.

After a minute, he pulled away from their kiss. "And now it's _my_ turn to give you a gift." He extended an object wrapped in black and gold cloth. Catrine took it in her hand, removing the cloth; underneath was a strangely shaped dagger, a small round handle and a blade that curved around, no bigger or longer than her hand. She smiled at how well her husband knew her. It was perfect.

"And now my cat has real claws," Guy smiled at her obvious joy. He leaned in close to her again from behind, taking her hand holding the dagger in his own, closing her fingers around it with his hands. "Lethal claws. One cut with this, and you're guaranteed to rip the insides too. Now, do you remember what I promised you over a year ago?"

Guy took off his jacket, letting it fall to the ground. Catrine turned around, her face lit softly in the moonlight; she let the dagger fall on his jacket and stepped close to Guy. He kissed her neck lightly, his hands running up her arms to the neckline of her dress. He slipped it off her shoulder, kissing along the top, pausing over the scar on her shoulder from a year ago that night. He began unlacing the knots and ties to her bodice on her back, still kissing into her neck. He felt her hands running up his back as they often had over the year, still filling him with pleasure.

Catrine stepped back, tossing her bodice aside on the grass. She let her dress slide down from her shoulders, uncovering her breasts, her hips and finally she stepped out of it. Guy's smoldering eyes looked her over as she stepped close to him, her pale skin even paler in the moonlight. He let her hands untuck his black tunic, wandering up his skin, tracing along the definition of his muscles. She felt his breathed stirring her hair and brushing her cheek. He moved in to kiss her, but she turned her head, refusing him her lips, letting him kiss her neck instead. She lifted his tunic to his shoulders, letting him pull it off and cast it aside himself.

Kneeling down to the ground, she wandered her hands from the tops of his boots up the tense muscles of his legs. Her touch lightened as she explored even higher, barely touching the bulge of his erection. He groaned at the slight contact, running his fingers through her hair. Catrine laid on her back, gazing at the starry sky as Guy removed his pants, laying down next to her on the cooling grass.

He reached away from her for a second, and then rolled onto his side, a single pink wildflower in his hand. He placed it delicately behind her ear, stroking her hair as he moved his hand, gently tracing the lines of her face. He lay half on her as he kissed his way lower, from her cheek to her neck and finally to the tops of her breasts.

Catrine sighed as she felt him kissing the mounds of her breasts. She gazed into the sky, loosing herself in pleasure. She felt him slowly enter her, and she softly moaned at the unexpected pressure. Her eyes turned their gaze to meet Guy's, his pale blue eyes like starlight themselves. She lifted herself to kiss him, his lips readily accepting. He broke from the kiss, thrusting gently at first, grinding his hips into her own. His shallow thrusts became deeper slowly; she wrapped her legs around him, and he thrusted deeper still. Deeper, but not faster. At each deep thrust, Catrine rocked her hips, releasing a quiet moan excited by the momentary break in his gentleness.

She begged him to go faster, feeling herself near her breaking point. She felt the pleasure within her spreading outwards, tensing from her legs and her feet to her arms and back. She shuddered as she came, her pleasure overwhelming all thoughts. She arched her back, looking into the sky as she moaned deeply.

Catrine lay breathless, letting Guy finish, feeling him thrust deeper and faster than before. He came quickly after her, his own groan of pleasure a breath in her ear. His hardness stayed within her as they lay together for a moment. Catrine traced along his spine from his butt to his head. She sighed deeply, breathing in the scent of grass and Guy's sweat. She tried to burn this moment in her memory forever, a moment so ripe with their love, gentle and consuming.

Guy rolled beside her, and Catrine moved alongside his body, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder. His hand wandered its way to her arm as he gazed into the stars as well. They looked into the sky for a long time, silent.

Guy rolled over to face Catrine, her eyes still gazing intently at the stars, the wildflower still draped behind her ear. He drank her in, wanting to remember her this way forever. He loved her every expression, every shift of her eyes, every movement of her mouth, every word she ever spoke. He remembered her from every moment over the year. He pictured her eyes flashing when he first introduced himself, her trembling, nervous smile as they made love for the first time, the murderous glint in her eye, and her arrogant cocky smiles she made when she knew she had won. Each a side of Catrine that he loved. Guy chuckled. She had numerous sides, as immeasurable as the stars in the sky. And the love between them had only grown with each moment together, every single one. No exceptions.


	33. Chapter 33

The crisp autumn air whistled against Catrine's face as she rode to Nottingham; with the crops already harvested at Locksley, she saw no reason not to surprise her husband at the castle. Supervising the harvest had been difficult this year, and she had barely had time to work alongside her husband. She couldn't wait to meet him in his chamber, "Won't he be pleasantly surprised!" she thought.

***

Guy leaned out over the rail of one of the many balconies in Nottingham Castle. He breathed the fall air, closing his eyes. He didn't want to think about ever having to leave this place, even for a little while. Yet he knew he soon had to, by the Sheriff's orders, within the year. One year. Such a long time, and yet over a year seemed to already fly by. And then he had to journey far away, surrounded by danger and possibly death, especially if he failed his mission. He didn't want to picture himself running through the sands of the Holy Land. If he failed, he'd be a traitor, if he succeeded, he and his wife would never have to worry about politics ever again.

He smiled as he thought about what their life will be once this was all over. He had to chuckle when he pictured Catrine as a mother, chasing and playing with their little boys. Not that she'd make a bad mother, it was just another new side of her that she would of course be perfect at. He really wanted that life, the life of a father and a husband: no more missions, no more killing, no more working for the Sheriff. Just him and his wife, running the manor and raising little Gisbornes. He couldn't stop smiling as he turned away to walk off the balcony. Not even his impending meeting with the Sheriff could remove his smile.

***

Catrine stood in Guy's chamber by his desk, running her hands along the chair's back. She glanced over all the parchments that lay on top in piles all over the desktop. Some she clearly saw were from the Holy Land, others about taxes, others about the Prince's private exchanges. And on top of one pile, she saw the name "Marian" scattered over the top page. Her anger rekindling in her innermost core, Catrine picked up the top papers, reading through them hungrily, trying to find any traces of disloyalty.

Outside the door, she heard Guy's voice, and her heart pounded with delight. A mischievous plan crossed her mind, why not actually surprise him? She quickly hid behind a tapestry on the wall, one that hung down to the floor and hid every inch of her. The papers on Marian still in her hands.

The door opened, and Catrine quieted her breathing. Guy entered, but not alone.

The Sheriff's voice spoke first. "Now, Gisborne, with the higher profits from the taxes, everything should be affordable for this mission. You and your most loyal men will sail out of Portsmouth, docking in Cairo. But with the King's army on the move, we don't know where you'll end up eventually. And you'll barely be far from your beloved wifey. Now, I'll read over your reports on the activities at Knighton Hall."

Catrine refrained from gasping, looking at the parchment in her hands. She heard Guy rustle papers around on his desk frantically.

"Sheriff, I… I'll get them to you later. I'm sure my scribe just hasn't finished… completing them yet." Guy's voice shook in suppressed anger.

"See that you do, Gisborne." The door closed, and Catrine heard Guy's chair squeak under his weight.

"Catrine, I know you're there. And hand me my papers, if you please." Guy's voice sounded exhausted.

Catrine followed his orders, walking up to him with a hard smirk on her face.

"How much did you hear? As though, I need to even ask."

"Everything, Guy," her voice was cold and irritated. "When were you going to tell me about this plot, about your work, about you leaving me?" her last question cold with anger, heavily articulated.

"I am the Sheriff's man, Catrine. It is my job. And what were you doing looking at my papers? Needing to fuel your hatred for Marian even more?"

"Now, that is my business! That is a woman's business."

"Your business IS my business; I am your husband," Guy's voice growing equally cold and deep in anger.

"A _loving_ husband would tell his wife about him leaving for the HOLY LAND!" Catrine couldn't keep her voice from rising. Her furry darkened her face.

"Well, a _loving_ wife wouldn't keep half her heart from her husband because she seeks out to destroy a nobody!"

Catrine slapped him, the sound echoed in the tense air, Guy's cheek turning immediately red from the contact.

"I LOVE YOU! HOW DARE YOU THINK THAT! Have you even thought about what will happen if Robin of Locksley returns? About what will happen to _us?"_

Guy's eyes began to grow cold and hard as they had once before. Even in her anger, Catrine knew she had to defend herself.

"Robin may not love Marian anymore, but he won't leave what is happening in Nottingham unchallenged. He will return, he will take Locksley back, and he even may take your job from you."

At these words, Guy closed his eyes in frustration, knowing she was right.

"If we catch information against him through Marian, all our problems will be gone," Catrine's voice softened but still resounded her inner rage.

Guy opened his eyes, staring right into Catrine's glowing brown eyes. "All our problems will be gone, and soon, if…" he paused, stepping closer to her, "if you only trusted me."

Guy's hands gripped both her arms, and Catrine felt her skin and flesh buckle beneath his strong fingers, and she looked away from him.

"Soon there will be no worries about whether Robin will return, whether the King will even return," he continued. His voice was hard and low, and Catrine felt his gaze burning her, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze.

"What are you saying, Guy?" she asked quietly.

"Well, you already heard part apparently." His fingers tightened even more, and he watched her face wince in pain. "In a year's time, we will be free forever, as the unchallenged Lord and Lady Gisborne. The Sheriff plots to ensure this. I will go to the Holy Land to make sure that the proper people will remain in the sands of Jerusalem forever."

Catrine met his look, trembling at the meaning of his words. A smile crept across her face, her eyes glowed with desire and longing. She gave a low moan.

"Oh _Guy_, what will you do to Robin?" her arms still held in Guy's clenching hands slowly moved towards his body. This was a game Guy was more than willing to play along with.

"First," Guy breathed, "I'll knock the blade from his hand."

Catrine unbuckled the top clip of his leather jacket. "Go on," she moaned, her hands waiting above the next clasp.

"Then, I'll take my sword and gash his right arm, then gash his left." Guy felt the next clasp unhook.

"And then…"

Guy breathed into her ear, "I'll circle around him, slicing through his back." And another clasp was unbuckled.

"And…" Catrine breathed as her hands stroke him through his half opened jacket.

"And I'll run him through his stomach, leaving the blade there for him to bleed."

Catrine moaned again, "He crumples to the ground, blood flowing from his body, his eyes beginning to darken." The last two clasps were undone; she slipped the jacket from his shoulders, tossing it on the ground.

"And thus expires Robin of Locksley," Guy's husky voice now excited with anticipation. He tried to lift Catrine's skirts, but she slipped away, her dress ripping. A fragment of her skirt remained in Guy's hand.

Catrine stared him right in the eye, a darkly playful glint to her own eyes. "Now, _Guy_, he is my own cousin. How can I let you get away with doing that to my own kin?" She tore another piece from her dress, longer than before. She grabbed his hands and quickly lashed them together.

Guy smirked, putting up a weak resistance. "He may be your cousin, but I," his voice dropped low and threatening, "I am your husband…"

Catrine ripped another piece off her dress, her thigh now showing; a mischievous smile flashed across her face.

Suddenly, she kicked Guy to the ground, pushing him backwards. He landed hard on his ass. Catrine bound his feet together tightly, laughing as she did so, her eyes blazing. Guy's heart raced; he had never seen this side of Catrine before. He chuckled as she placed her foot on his chest, pushing him to the ground. She felt his chest vibrating with laughter.

She leaned down over him, and she slapped him again, "That is for my cousin." Guy's eyes stared in disbelief.

Then she kneeled beside him. "And this is for my husband," she whispered softly, meeting his lips with hers. She kissed him passionately, bracing herself on the floor. He lifted his hands, still bound, to stroke her face.

She turned to kiss his hand. "See you at home," she said standing up. She smiled at Guy bound on the floor, panting in his agony.

"Catrine…" he moaned, struggling against his bonds.

"I'm sure you'll free yourself soon, my love." She left through the door, leaving it ajar.

Guy began loosening his bonds around his wrists with his teeth, biting into the center of the knot.

"That," he thought, smiling with the fabric of her dress in his mouth, "That is the mother of my children."


	34. Chapter 34

Brightly colored leaves covered the road through Sherwood Forest and the Gisborne coach made its way towards Nottingham. Inside the wooden coach, Guy sat across from Catrine, looking out the window. As if he wasn't needed at the castle enough already, the Sheriff convened a meeting of the Council of Nobles to discuss the upcoming tax day. It was his duty to attend as both the Sheriff's man and as lord of Locksley. But at least Catrine came too. Working at her side, Guy forgot his cruel, often gruesome actions, her love made even the most shameful missions seem bearable; if she could forgive him, he believed, then so could God. Her love was proof of forgiveness.

He looked over to her, her gaze fixed on the autumn scenery through the carriage window. He chin resting on her hand, propped against the carriage's window ledge. Overwhelmed at that moment, Guy shifted to sit next to her, cuddling into her neck as she often did with him. She turned, surprised at Guy.

"Guy?" her curiosity ringing in her voice.

Guy clung tighter to her. "I just wanted to tell you I love you," he spoke softy.

Catrine laughed quietly. "I love you too."

"No matter what happens?"

"Of course." Catrine laughed again. "You're being like a little boy, Guy. I always love you; you taught me how. And now," she chuckled, "I just can't stop."

Guy smiled, looking into her eyes. "Thank you," was all he could bring himself to say.

***

Catrine entered the Great Hall once again. She hadn't been here for a while though, she thought. Not since the last Council of Nobles. She equally dreaded and loved the Council meetings. She sat there, honored as a noble and as the wife of the Sheriff's man, through the most tedious matters of business. Her only reprieve during these meetings was to make the other noble women, especially Marian, uncomfortable. Although, her favorite maiden had been notably absent since the archery tournament. Catrine laughed at the memory.

Arm in arm with Guy, Catrine walked in; they faced the Sheriff who sat behind his table surrounded by a circle of chairs- one for each noble present. Guy sat in the chair at the Sheriff's right hand; Catrine sat in the chair at her husband's right hand. They waited as the other nobles filtered in, Guy holding her hand on his chair's arm.

Within the procession of nobles, Sir Edward entered, accompanied by his daughter for the first time in months. Marian's presence sent waves of irritation down Catrine's spine. She couldn't dwell on her anger for very long; the Sheriff called the meeting to order.

"Lords, and ladies, as you know, tax day approaches. And this time, we have a new… approach… shall we say. From today forward, you are all required to collect an extra 200 pounds to your tax. Do whatever you deem necessary to get what I ask of you." The Sheriff fingered a quill in his hands.

"200 pounds, my lord Sheriff? To what end?" Lady Marian asked, standing behind her father's chair.

"For someone who has just rejoined the political circle, you sure are nosy," the Sheriff jabbed his quill in her direction. "For your information, and for all of you, the King asks for more money to fund his campaign. His troops are setting out soon to begin attacking on a new front, and needs to fund moving all of his hundreds and hundreds of men. Satisfied?"

He didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he moved on to the next order of business. But Catrine wasn't listening. She stared as Marian shifted her weight nervously, her eyes shined with her inner frustration and anticipation. Catrine thought she looked as though she were planning, even calculating.

Catrine knew as she always had that Marian could not be trusted.

***

The Sheriff stood in his office in the tower of Nottingham Castle, pouring over the final tax legers as Guy stood behind him, leaning against the wall.

"Oh, this just will not do! Either, we don't have enough people to pay taxes, or… we simply have too many poor people. What do you think, Gisborne?"

"Sheriff. It will just take time, action, and most importantly punishment to milk enough money from the populace," he stepped up to the Sheriff's desk.

"Read this, Gisborne," the Sheriff handed Guy a report. "As you read, you come to the same realization as I have. Undermining authority simply won't do."

Guy read over the report. Finished, he looked at the Sheriff. "This Night Watchman must be taken care of. We cannot let this man masquerade around, giving food and money to people who must be punished for their debts."

The Sheriff wrote out on parchment, pressing his seal on newly poured hot wax. "Gisborne, you see to this." He handed the parchment to Guy. "Just have the offending Watchman shot on sight. That will be the end of that."


	35. Chapter 35

Locksley blanketed thinly in snow was both iridescent and saddening for Catrine as she looked out the bedroom window. She pulled her fur blanket tighter around her, trying to stop shivering. She longed to see the sun again, to feel its warmth, to smell the wildflowers and to make love with Guy again on the hillside. Instead she opened her eyes to see her own breath and the smoke from each house in the town of Locksley float away into the grey winter sky.

She hated stripping down to her skin in order to get dressed. But they were due to arrive at Nottingham Castle; after all, it was Christmas Eve.

She shuddered at the very thought of dropping her blanket to dress herself, even though Guy had bought her a beautiful dress for tonight- red velvet with even deeper shades of red in the bodice, trimmed heavily in white rabbit fur around the sleeves and collar. His Christmas present to her. It lay on her bed, waiting for her to brave the cold to finally put it on. Bracing herself, Catrine did just that, quickly dropping her fur wrap to step into the heavy fabric. She pulled the dress up, trying to lace the bodice's ties in front of her, but they were too tight, especially around her middle; she couldn't finish lacing them up. She paused as she thought for a moment.

Guy laughed from the door. "You move really quickly with the right incentive."

Catrine turned to face him, her bodice half laced up and her face twisted in surprise and frustration. "It's not funny, Guy. It's cold and I can't seem to dress myself today."

"Let me help you then." Guy walked over, thinking how perfect the dress was for her. He first kissed her, but she pulled away, handing him the laces to her bodice.

"Here."

Guy tightened the laces, first with the lowest pair, then higher and higher, taking his time with the laces over her breast. His hands strayed from the laces, wrapping around her breasts. Catrine narrowed her eyes, reminding him that he was helping her dress, not undress. He chuckled, tying off the final lace. Then he kissed the bare skin of her shoulders, to her neck, then her chin, and finally her lips. Catrine reached for his cheek, gently tracing her nails through his stubbly beard.

Guy grabbed her hand from his face and kissed it. "Merry Christmas, Lady Gisborne."

They walked out to their carriage, filled with fur blankets, setting off for Nottingham in a light snowfall as night began to fall.

***

The entrance hall to the castle looked completely different, lit up brilliantly with hundreds of tapers and draped in bows of holly and ivy. Catrine gasped as the light reflected everywhere. All through the Great Hall too, candles lined the room and fires burned for warmth. A group of musicians sat in the corner, strumming lutes and beating drums while recorders played lively music in the season's spirit. The music was barely audible over the crowd; every important noble had accepted the invitation to the banquet.

The Sheriff sat in his chair at the other end of the hall, wrapped in black furs and wearing a holly wreath around his head. Seeing his right-hand man, the Sheriff rose to welcome them.

"Ah! Merry Christmas, season's greetings and all that, my lovelies," he said as he handed them each goblets of liquid. "Only the best Wassail here, my friends. And don't forget to tell your wife about the surprise." The Sheriff smiled, "Drink up, friends, this is a party after all." He turned back towards his seat.

Guy led Catrine to the corner of the hall, twirling her around. "That dress really is perfect on you." He caught her mid-spin, turning her to face him. Her golden hair glowed in the candlelight, made even more striking by the deep reds of her dress. But her eyes seemed different, glowing deeper and happier than he'd ever seen before.

"Now, Guy, what surprise?"

"Well, you know about my mission. It's soon approaching, sometime before summer the Sheriff thinks. And I am in charge of choosing my own men; as I thought, I decided something. Who wouldn't I trust more on this mission than my wife?" Catrine's face smiled in surprise. "I've asked the Sheriff and he agreed to the idea."

"Do you really mean it, Guy? You asked the Sheriff for me to come with you? On your mission?"

"Yes," he murmured. Leaning in to hold her.

Catrine cuddled into his neck, kissing him. She sighed contentedly. "And now, Guy, I have a surprise for you. Something along the lines of a Christmas present."

"Oh really?" Guy's voice deepened, and Catrine felt his hand move up her front, wrapping around her breast.

"Guy," her glowing eyes smiled up at him. "Guy, I'm carrying your child." Catrine moved his hand from her breast to her lower stomach. Guy felt it slightly round under the dress. "Remember how I couldn't tie up my dress? I also have missed my monthly course. Twice. Guy, we're going to have a child."

He couldn't believe it. He smiled as he rubbed the slight swell in her stomach, "A little Gisborne," he whispered.

"So, now you see Guy, I can't go with you. I'll be here, raising our infant." Her voice choked on the last word.

Guy took her into her arms, kissing her gently, savoring her every movement.

***

Guy handed Catrine into the carriage, and she gratefully curled up in the seat under a think blanket of fur. Guy sat next to her, equally grateful to be returning home after the feast. He lifted the blanket, feeling her snuggle into his shoulder. He placed his hand on her stomach once more, the news still sinking in. He had fought to bring her with him to the Holy Land, and now he'd have to fight to just return to her. Her and the new life inside her.

Catrine breathed in Guy's scent, a single tear rolled down her cheek. She wanted to go with Guy, but she knew she couldn't travel pregnant, and not on a mission to the Holy Land. Fear clutched her heart as she thought about being alone for months, going into labor and giving birth without him. She thought about another woman she knew, and hated, whose man went to the Holy Land and had yet to return. Another tear rolled down from her eye. Catrine clung tighter to Guy's jacket, and she felt a hand wipe away her tears.

Guy lifted her face towards him. "I promise you, I will return. After this mission, I'll be done with the Sheriff, and you and I will just be Lord and Lady Gisborne, and we'll raise our child, together. " Another tear rolled down her cheek.

"Our child…" she whispered.


	36. Chapter 36

Spring's warm breath finally touched the hills of Locksley, chasing away the rain and melting the snow. In this warm intoxicating weather, Catrine stood in the stable, brushing her mare's shiny black coat. One hand brushed the horse, the other rested on her round belly, now grown larger as she neared her time.

Guy stood beside her, brushing his own horse. As they stood between their two horses, Guy heard Catrine grunt each time she leaned over and stood up, trying to move around with pregnant belly.

He turned to watch her, bending over her swell to brush her mare's underside. Trying to stand, she supported herself on the mares back, straightening herself with one loud grunt. She looked up at him, smiling and wiping the sweat from her forehead.

Guy took a step towards her, trying to gently grab the brush from her hand. "Catrine, you shouldn't work so hard in your state…"

She just smiled.

"I can take care of you, you know. Most women are on bed-rest by now, it's called 'going into confinement,'" he teased. "You apparently haven't heard of it."

Catrine laughed, and then moved her hand out from under Guy's, continuing to brush the top of her mare's back. "Guy, how soon do you leave?"

"Within the month," his voice hinted at his sadness at the thought. Catrine dropped her brush and wrapped her arms around Guy's waist. Her swollen stomach pressed into him as she hugged him. Placing his hand on her side, Guy felt the baby within her. His baby.

"Guy, I don't want your last memories of me before you leave to be me, on a bed, doing nothing." She smiled at him, her eyes hadn't lost that beautiful glimmer. "Besides, it's finally Spring, and _I_ want to go hunting."

"Only for small game though. I don't want to see my pregnant wife carving up deer."

"Fine," Catrine sighed, feigning disappointment with a smile, "I'll have to settle for just carving up a rabbit instead."

***

The branches of Sherwood Forest blocked most of the spring sunshine, the deep greens of the trees and undergrowth shining brilliant emeralds everywhere. Through the trees rode Catrine and Guy. To please her husband's anxieties about her overexertions, Catrine brought her kestrel, which perched on her arm, flapping its wings for balance every now and then as they rode.

They reached the edge of a clearing, a field of tall grasses and short shrubbery—a perfect spot to let her kestrel fly for small game. Guy reigned in his horse, smirking at Catrine, side saddle on her horse, her kestrel on her arm. And a pregnant belly.

"Let it fly," he said. With a grin, Catrine removed its hood, loosened the bird's tether, and tossed it into the air as it took flight.

The bird circled around the clearing, searching for prey. It darted down at the opposite edge. Guy and Catrine watched it intently, following its every dart. As it swooped down, Guy spotted a flash of red between the trees opposite.

"I know that cape," Guy growled. "Do you see them Catrine?"

"Guy?"

"A scarlet cape…" he craned forward and heard the twang of a bowstring. "Poaching… in the forest…" Guy kicked his horse into motion.

"Guy!" Catrine yelled after him, her own horse breaking into a run.

Galloping through the grass, they slowed their horses as they reached the woods. Guy led his charger through the bracken slowly, following the sound of voices. Past a line of trees, Guy and Catrine stopped, seeing the red cloak and a brown cloak bending over the ground.

"Success at your hunt, Will Scarlett?" Guy asked, disgust tainting his voice. The two boys spun around, daggers in their hands, standing before a deer's lifeless carcass. Guy rode up and jumped off his horse; he held a coil of rope from his saddle in one hand.

"Now, I never would have expected that the Scarlett boys, tradesmen by day, were really secretly… poachers." Guy drew his sword. "And we all know what happens to poachers…"

"How else are we supposed to feed ourselves? What with you taxing us of every spare coin that ever even nears our homes," Will spat, holding his dagger defensively. Guy knocked the dagger out of his grip with a loud metallic crash that made Catrine wince. She watched as Guy bound the boys' hands; she grabbed at her necklace, the same from almost two years ago. Her eyes followed Guy fixedly as he tied the boys to the back of his saddle. Will's eyes stared at her, scared and angry.

Guy remounted. "Sorry to interrupt our hunt, my love, but we've found bigger game than just rabbits."


	37. Chapter 37

Guy led his quarry down the road back to Locksley, and Catrine rode beside him, unsure of what to think. She remembered the Scarlet boys as the new Lady Gisborne with fondness as they looked on her, touched by her generosity. Then she remembered the archery tournament and Will's flagrant disobedience. These boys were guilty of a crime, and she knew the punishment—cutting off a hand. She looked at Guy, his pride as Lord of Locksley shone from his face, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Every now and then, he'd turn to check his prisoners, throwing Catrine a smirk as he turned forward. They rode on in silence.

Silence, until the sound of hoof beats echoed from the path in front of them. A woman on a white horse approached; her chestnut hair gave her identity away to Catrine.

"Lady Marian," she growled under he breath. Her free hand rested on her stomach. Guy turned to look at his wife, seeing her eyes narrow. He reached out his hand, and Catrine grabbed it.

"I'll handle it, my love." Guy squeezed her hand. They kept riding towards Locksley and towards Marian; Guy didn't intend to stop. As they passed her by, Will Scarlett called out Marian's name.

In his anger, Guy tugged the rope tied to Will who then stumbled forward and almost fell.

Marian stopped her horse, "My lady Gisborne, what are you doing out riding this late in your pregnancy? Most women would worry about losing their baby."

"And what would you know about bearing children, my Lady Marian?" Catrine sniffed.

Marian ignored her comment. "Sir Guy, what is going on here?" Marian asked as she turned her horse around.

"A matter of business, my lady. For every crime, there is a price to pay."

"What crime? What harm can two young boys do?" Marian's voice grew louder with passion as her green eyes stared at Guy and Catrine. Catrine turned to face her in her saddle.

"Even you, Maid Marian, must surely know that it is a crime for the peasants to poach deer in the forest?" Her voice maintained the now familiar shiver of anger Marian so often heard from Lady Gisborne. Guy reached out to place a firm hand on her shoulder.

"It is no crime to feed a family. Surely you have pity for your hungry people?"

"I believe it has been made clear, my lady, that what happens to the people of Locksley is no longer your concern. To stand against us is to stand against the law, Marian," Guy's voice sent shivers down her spine.

She met his cold stare, "Justice will always be the concern of everyone." She kicked her horse, riding ahead of them, and faster. She had to warn Dan Scarlett of the storm that was to come.

***

On a barrel in his carpenter yard, Dan Scarlett's eyes poured forth tears.

"My lady, I told them not to. I warned them that they would get caught, and now the law must be followed. Oh my boys!"

Marian's hand rubbed his shoulder. "If we make a stand, then justice will be served."

"Sir Guy's justice is the law. He will demand blood, demand the price for poaching." Dan's eyes closed as he clasped his own hands together, feeling his wrists in sympathy. "They are so young, Lady Marian. I can't let them live their entire lives with only one hand."

"Then stand up for them."

"No, my lady. I will stand in _for_ them. Better to have an old man lose his hand than a young boy."

"Dan…" Marian's voice trailed off as hoof beats grew louder.

Their silence broke as Guy's booming voice filled the town.

"People of Locksley! Today, your lord and lady bring you a surprise." Their two black horses came to a stop in the center of all the houses. Guy dismounted, untied the ropes from his saddle, and pulled the Scarlett boys towards him. Will's eyes were filled with anger and hate, and Luke was crying, wiping his nose on his shoulder.

Catrine dismounted carefully and walked the horses to the stable. She returned with a wooden block and an axe, its blade shined in the light. She set the block in front of her husband, throwing him a smirk filled with anticipation. Then she hacked the block with the axe, leaving it cut into the wood to wait for its purpose.

Ten or so of Guy's men surrounded the scene, stepping between the crowd and their commander.

Guy continued to speak, near intoxicated with the attention. "Now, today, I bring you the lesson of justice, of crime and punishment. With the law, there is no room for mercy, no leeway taken into account for the age of the criminals. A crime is a crime, and every crime must be punished…"

"My lord Gisborne…" Dan Scarlett pushed through the guards and kneeled before Guy as he held his sons' bonds. "I understand that what my sons did was wrong. I also know that every crime must be punished, but show some mercy. Take my hand instead. All a crime deserves is blood, and my blood is the same as theirs."

Guy stared at the old man before him, thinking. He stared up to see Marian's face in the crowd. "Why the hell is she here?" he thought. His anger flared; he wanted to make an example of them all.

Then he felt a gentle touch on his arm. Guy turned to face Catrine. And she nodded, "Let the father be punished. It's all the same, really." She smiled, and bent down to pick up the axe. She held it in her hand, waiting for Guy to take it.

"Show some compassion," Marian's voice called out over the crowd, and she pushed through the guards, placing her hand of Dan Scarlett's shoulder. Catrine tensed, her eyes drilled into Marian's, her hand gripping the axe's handle tighter.

Guy handed on of his men the ropes that bound Will and Luke, "Release them when it's over." He moved the block in front of Dan, grabbing his left hand, splaying the fingers out and centering the wrist as he drew up the sleeve.

Marian's voice spoke again, filled with passion. "This is not mercy, Sir Guy. You will take the hand of your town's carpenter to satisfy the law? Just because it is the law does not mean it's justice."

Guy ignored her and reached out his hand behind him for Catrine to hand him the axe. He waited.

"No! Lady Catrine!" Marian called out.

Guy barely blinked; he felt a breeze rush past him and saw the shining axe blade glint in his face. He could only stare, unmoving, watching the axe bite into the flesh and bone of Dan's wrist. Blood squirted. And Guy let go of the motionless fingers of a severed hand.

"Shut up, Marian," Catrine's voice as steely as the bloody axe blade in her hand. She chopped into the block, returning the axe to its place.

Guy stood and watched his wife and Marian stare each other down. His men wrapped Dan's bleeding stump and other men freed the boys.

Will ran at Catrine as she smoothed her dress over her distended belly. She turned to face him, laughing as she simply stared at him covering the distance between them.

Marian rushed forward, leaping around Dan and the bloodied mess surrounding him. "Will! Don't! What are you doing?" she screamed. Intercepting him, Marian grabbed Will's red cloak, pulling on him hard to stop him. The cloak rent, and Marian fell to the ground, clutching only a piece of red fabric.

Will ran faster. "Oh, let the boy come! We'll see just how brave he is to attack a pregnant woman!" Her words wouldn't stop him.

He screamed as he ran even closer, "You bitch. You cut my dad's hand off! And you don't deserve my mother's necklace.

Will grabbed only at Catrine's throat, clutching the pendant of the fateful necklace, tearing the leather strip and throwing it to the ground. It landed in a pool of blood.

"ENOUGH!" Guy yelled; his gravely voice startled Catrine out of her anger. He straightened himself, tall and commanding.

"Marian, get out of here!" his cold eyes turning to face her. "Now!" he growled. Seeing her leave, he faced the Scarletts. "You will be punished for this," he pointed at Will. "Go stop this man's bleeding before he dies altogether," Guy ordered his men.

Finally, he turned to face his wife. She only stared at the bloodied axe and her now bloodied necklace still on the ground.

He walked up alongside her, placing his arm around her waist. "Let's go," he said quietly under his breath. "You're too close to your time to do this. Think of our child." He walked her inside the manor, looking at her face as tears slowly streaked down.

She sank down in a chair by the fireplace. "I do think of our child, and all I see is blood. The blood of giving birth, alone. Without you. While you're gone, allegedly deathly ill under the same roof."

Guy pulled her up into his embrace. "The Sheriff has seen to a doctor for you, under the pretense of healing me as well while I'm rumored ill." He hugged her tighter. "But it scares me too." Guy felt the baby move between them, and they smiled at each other.


	38. Chapter 38

Soft morning light began to draw Catrine out of her sleep. She moved her arm in her waking state, looking for Guy beside her.

He wasn't there. She sat straight up suddenly, scared that she was dreaming. Scared that he had left already without saying goodbye. She gasped in pain as the baby turned within her; she had moved too fast for how pregnant she was.

"I'm here, my love." Guy said as he sat on the foot of the bed. "I just wanted to watch you sleep. It's when you are at the most peace."

"Not when I think my husband has left me. That's not peaceful at all," she whispered through her pain. Breathing deeply, she moved to sit next to him, grabbing his arm and resting her head on his shoulder. Guy kissed the top of her head.

"I would never leave you without saying goodbye, Catrine. And I wouldn't miss our last day together for anything in the world."

"And I would give anything in the world to not need a last day, Guy." Tears dripped from her cheek down his bare arm.

"I know; as would I." Guy wrapped his arm around her, hugging her to his chest, letting her cry into his neck. "But let's enjoy today, at least as much as we can."

Catrine nodded, still sobbing.

***

Catrine smiled as she sat across from her husband at dinner; he had made her happy that day, despite their soon approaching separation. He had filled the day with all her favorite things: from her favorite meals, to riding in the forest, to simply cuddling in the stable's hay. And she suspected what he planned for tonight; she smiled.

He had jokingly forbid her from talking about politics that day, but she had one topic that was of a personal interest. "Guy?"

He smiled as he drank from his wine goblet. "Yes, my love?"

"I know there are… certain topics… that I am to avoid today, but I must ask you something."

"Catrine..." Guy smiled. There just was no stopping his wife sometimes.

"Well, I just want to know if you've intercepted any letters from Marian to Robin since her little incident at the tournament. Has she made… any attempt at contacting him?"

"No. We have found nothing."

"Then… in that case, I have a final… and deadly… parting gift for Maid Marian."

"Catrine, we can't simply kill her, even after the most recent incident."

"I don't want to kill her. I want to kill Robin's love for her. For good." Catrine pulled out a piece of parchment from her bosom.

Guy looked confusedly at her. "But he already said he was through with her." He took the parchment, opening it to reveal a letter.

"He never said he stopped loving her. But this," she tapped the parchment in his hand, "will see to that."

Guy read the few short phrases,

_Robin_

_I hope you are pleased to know that I have followed your orders. I have moved on. And I am pursued by many other, wealthier men; men who won't abandon me for their own selfish glory. I am happy, the happiest I have ever been in my life. Without you._

_Marian_

A smile crossed Guy's face too when he realized how his wife's words in Marian's mouth would hurt Robin, wound him through the heart.

"See, you're determined to make yourself a part of this mission, baby or no baby." He reached for her hand, bringing it to his lips.

Catrine laughed, "As the man I love once said, 'You're not the only one willing to do whatever it takes to get what you want'" she smirked at him, citing the very words he spat at her just after he took his belt to her back.

Guy broke out into a warm laugh, and Catrine joined him. They sat there for some time with their heads thrown back in laughter.

***

Reds and oranges tinted the evening sky as Guy breathed deeply, smelling each scent of the night's air. He had to say goodbye to Catrine. And this was the only way he could imagine it. Back on their hill outside of Locksley village. The one spot they could really be alone.

Holding a torch in his hands, Guy bent over a pile of logs on the crest of the hill. He added the fire to the wood, letting the fire kindle and begin consuming the firewood. Coughing from the smoke, Guy turned to look at Catrine outlined in the sunset, her blonde hair streaked brilliant reds and golds from the dying light.

Leaving the fire, Guy walked quietly up behind her, wrapping his arms around her from behind as he did three years ago, almost to the day. Catrine stifled a sob, finding his hands and placing them on their baby within her. Guy smiled and kissed her neck. His hands gently brushed over Catrine as they found her breasts, softly tracing circles around their fullness. He heard Catrine's tearful sobs become sighs. Guy's breath softly stirred the hair around her ear, and Catrine felt his hands trace gently between her breasts and along her neck, slowly moving from her shoulders to her chin and everywhere in between. His light touch intoxicated her, sending shivers of desire down her spine to her womanhood.

She turned around, meeting his smoldering grey eyes once more. She pressed her lips into his, closing her eyes; she parted her lips beneath his, allowing his tongue to find her own. Her hands ran over the course unshaven stubble on his cheek and into his hair, twirling it and brushing it through her fingers. She felt his hands unbuckle his own jacket, feeling it fall away from between them. Then she felt him reach around her, tracing along her back gently, finding the simple knot to untie her loose dress. The thin fabric fell away from her shoulders and she let go of him to let her sleeves flow down to the ground with the rest of the dress.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she gazed at Guy. As each tear traveled down her cheek, he'd simply kiss it away, holding her close to him. Once her tears slowed, Guy stepped away, removing his pants and tunic, letting them fall beside Catrine's dress. He looked at her in the dim moonlight and firelight now; her hands resting on her belly, waiting for him.

He walked over behind her again, his breath tickling her ear as he breathed in her scent. Grabbing her hand, he lay down on the grass close enough to the fire for warmth. Catrine followed, smiling.

Guy moved her so that her back was to him, laying on their sides, facing away from the fire and out towards the star-lined horizon. Catrine loved the feeling of Guy's breath in her ear, and she closed her eyes, savoring his touch. She felt his hands explore her every inch, cupping her breast and tracing her belly. His fingers delicately traced over the top of her thigh, and she felt his erection grow harder behind her back. His hand wandered between her legs, tracing up to her clit, rubbing and stroking her until he heard her breath come heavily and she began to moan.

With a pleasured sigh, he entered her again, feeling her muscles tensing in anticipation already. Guy held her side, and started gently thrusting, gyrating his hips into hers from behind. He thrusted harder and deeper, pushing her into him with the hand on her side. He felt along the top of her swell, thrusting even deeper and faster. He kissed her back, resting his head on her shoulder.

Catrine shuddered under his kisses, moaning quietly in pleasure each time he moved within her. Her muscles tensing, she felt his hand wander to her clit as he thrusted, and Catrine could not contain herself. Every muscle in her body tensed, sending waves of pleasure that made her breath catch in her throat.

Guy groaned as he felt her tighten, and he thrusted deeper as she relaxed in his arms. She moved his hand back to the top of her belly as he continued to finish, feeling him thrust faster until he finally shuddered in orgasm as well.

He pulled out, and rested his head on her shoulder, his breath traveling down her spine. He felt a sob rise from within her, and she turned to face him. Again, he kissed away her salty tears. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly for fear of losing him. He laid her on her back, kissing her lips, and then her breasts, and then her belly.

They remained on the hilltop all night, feeding the fire and their love.

***

Before daybreak, Guy gently woke Catrine, who lay in his arms still, with a kiss.

"We've got to at least get dressed before some poor shepherd finds us here," his voice held just a hint of a laugh in it.

Catrine opened her eyes but clung to Guy even tighter.

"I'd like to see them find us…" she whispered sleepily.

Guy chuckled in her ear. "Come on," he got up and brought Catrine her dress. He grabbed her hand, pulling her up to stand. He slipped the loose material over her head, tying it behind her, kissing her neck once he was done.

He walked away to get himself dressed, pulling on his pants and tunic. He searched around for his leather jacket, growing frustrated at its apparent disappearance.

Catrine laughed behind him, holding his jacket in her hands. She slipped it on his shoulders, walking in front of him to buckle the clasps.

Guy wrapped his arms around her, already seeing tears spring to her eyes again. "Don't worry, I'll be back in just over a month. And then our lives will just be you, me, and the baby. Nothing will come between us. I promise you."

They slowly walked back to the manor under the early-morning stars, Guy's horse already waiting for him. Catrine couldn't bring herself to speak; all she could utter were the sobs she choked back. She clung to Guy tighter than she ever had before, burying her face in his neck, running her fingers through his raven hair one last time. He kissed her tear-streaked cheek again. "I love you," he breathed.

"I love you too," Catrine spoke through her tears. Guy let her hold him for minutes, savoring every last detail of his wife.

He finally had to leave, the sun would begin peeping over the horizon, and he had to leave in secrecy. Their lips met a one last time. "One month, I promise," he said as he broke away.

Then he mounted his horse, and rode off through the village undetected. Catrine stood at the entrance to the manor, watching until Guy was no more than a speck down the road, and then he was no more than a memory in her heart.


	39. Chapter 39

"This must be the ship," Guy thought as he wandered the docks of Portsmouth. He had ridden all day and finally arrived as the sun set. Shadows fell all along the dockside, each ship's timbers groaning with the wind and the rise and fall of the waves against their moorings. Alone, Guy jumped at each surprising creak, spinning around to make sure no one had followed him.

Guy shook off his fears and walked up the groaning gangplank; he felt it sway uncontrollably over the swells in the harbor. He stepped over the ships rail, looking around the deck.

Not a soul. Anywhere. Guy peered into the shadows around the mast and the opposite rail from where he stood. Still nothing. The ship seemed totally abandoned. He took a step forward, drawing his sword, just in case.

With a clang, his sword flew from Guy's hand. He tensed as someone behind him pinned his arms to his back, finding a dagger's blade pressing into his neck from behind him.

"Name?" a cold, high-pitched man's voice demanded.

"Sir Guy of Gisborne."

"Passwords?"

"A lion's heart." Guy felt his arms release. The dagger left his neck, and Guy heard it being sheathed.

"Welcome, Sir Guy. Though you clearly don't know who you're dealing with."

Guy turned to face the man speaking, "What do you mean?" The stranger stood before him, cloaked in black, his head hidden by his cowl. "Sir, I deal with the Sheriff."

"But you don't even know who your own boss _deals_ with," the high-pitched voice coldly stated. He pulled back his hood, his dark, bearded face was riddled with scars, leaving lines of smooth, pink skin crossing over his cheeks.

"I am John Hagger, mercenary, and member of the Black Knights." He extended his right arm, a heavy metal ring in the shape of a falcon on his finger and a strange black tattoo on his arm.

"The Black Knights?"

"My friend," Hagger said, covering his tattoo up again, "the Black Knights are the key to power. We stop at nothing to get what we want."

Guy smiled, reminded of the woman he loved, "As do I."

"I like the sound of that. By joining us, you will find something almost closer than family. But…" Hagger's black eyes stared into Guy's, "you will have to undergo the initiation." He pointed to his tattoo.

"Tattoos are painful, but they mark you as one of our own. Think carefully on the design I give you. To each his own. And once you have the mark, there's no undoing and no going back. "

"Of course not," Guy accepted the challenge. He would go through anything, everything, to succeed and return to Locksley. Return to his wife.

He followed as Hagger went down the steps below deck. Hagger entered through a door to a cabin; Guy closed his eyes to adjust them to the dim lighting. A single candle burned on a table beside a thin dagger and a pot of ink.

Hagger sat at the table, spreading his black cloak behind him in a flourish as he sat.

"Prospect, you will sit," Hagger's voice was just above a whisper as he swept his arm, indicating the empty chair across from him.

Guy sat, his breath coming quickly in his anxiety.

"What is your name?" Hagger, grabbed at Guy's right arm, clutching it tightly and pressing it to the table. He rolled back Guy's sleeve, exposing his entire forearm.

"Sir Guy of Gisborne."

"Who do you serve?" Hagger picked up the dagger, poised above his skin.

"The Sheriff of Nottingham…"

"Wrong." Hagger spoke quickly, scraping the thin point into Guy's skin five times. Guy hissed out in pain. Blood began welling up

"Try again. What is your name?"

"Guy of Gisborne." Guy spoke through clenched teeth.

"And who do you serve?"

"Prince John…" Guy hissed again in frustration as Hagger scraped through his skin about a dozen more times, outlining strange shapes over his forearm.

"Tsk, tsk, Gisborne. You'll have to know your allegiance better than that," drawing even more into Guy's skin. "Now, tell me, who do you serve?"

Guy paused, looking at the blood dripping from his arm to the table. "The Black Knights. I serve the Black Knights."

"Very good, Prospect. But we are barely through." Hagger smiled grimly in the flickering light.

"Now, tell me, Guy of Gisborne," Hagger continued scraping his skin with the dagger point, "what is your mission for the Black Knights?"

"To kill the King."

Hagger nodded and finished poking the small holes in his arm. He took a cloth and began dabbing away the blood. He reached for the inkpot. Guy flinched as he thought about what was about to happen. Hagger poured the ink over the open gashes in his arm, dabbing the ink into the wounds around his forearm.

Guy closed his eyes, his thoughts back in Locksley, numbing his mind to the irritating pain. He felt Hagger stop. Opening his eyes, Guy saw a smile cross Hagger's scraggily face.

"Welcome to the Black Knights."


	40. Chapter 40

_Author's Note- _Now we get to the part of this epic where our two heroes meet again after years apart. Acre. The battle scene is described as depicted in the tv series.

Please Enjoy! And please review!

* * *

John Hagger stood in the sands surrounding the city of Acre. He smiled, "Tonight," he thought. "It all ends tonight." He thought of the look on Gisborne's face as he endured his initiation, his face straight and firm under the dagger's point.

He turned to look at Gisborne beside him standing in the sands, gazing over the expansive desert. Guy's left hand clutched at his right forearm over his tattoo, now healed after the weeks of journeying. Looking at this man, Hagger sensed a driving force in Guy—something deeper than just self-satisfaction, power and duty. He proved a very willing and strong fighter, perfect to kill the King and anyone else in his way.

Guy turned sharply to face Hagger, a piece of parchment in his hand. "You have ways to get things inside the King's camp without detection, right?" his voice husky from the dry desert air.

"Of course."

"This is a letter that must be delivered." Guy clutched the paper harder, crumpling it a bit with his emotion.

"What do you mean, Sir Guy? A letter? For someone in the King's camp? All I have seen you do when you're alone is read that paper and finger your dagger." Hagger's eyes glowed in suspicion.

Guy sighed. "You're right," his voice quiet with deep thought. "The letter is written by my wife," he choked on the last word, "but it is a letter from another woman to a soldier. Merely written by my wife."

"I see," Hagger said, taking the letter. "I will see it is delivered. After tonight that is."

Guy nodded, falling back into silence once more.

***

Robin lay across Laena's bed, drowsy from the heat. She smiled and licked the sweat from his chest.

"If I could always see you smile," he murmured.

She looked up at him, "You will have to get used to disappointment."

He chuckled, "How old are you, Laena?"

"I do not think you will like the answer."

"I wish you would tell me anyway."

"I'm twenty-seven."

"You seem much younger," Robin offered helpfully.

"Do I?" She mused, love in the afternoon with Robin always made her loose and fluid feeling. She drifted across the room to her trunk. She dug through to the very bottom, and pulled out a worn leather-backed volume, tied together with string.

"This was given to me by my first lover twelve years ago. It is written by a woman named Sei Shonagon. It is written in Japanese, but as he spoke it to me out loud in English, I wrote down the translation to my favorite part."

"May I see?"

"Of course. Be careful," she cautioned, handing it to him.

"I have never seen writing like this. How do you read it?"

"I do not know. It is called hiragana; it is the language of lovers the man told me."

"A lover with whom one is somewhat secretive and with whom one is trysting in an out of the way place, proceeds to snore!" Robin read, then grinned and looked at her, "Do I snore?"

"It's been known to happen," Laena replied mischievously.

"A man with whom one is having an affair proceeds to hint to one about another woman he has previously known. It doesn't much matter whether the tale is an old one or not; just to mention such things at all is despicable behavior! So much more so when the event in question is more recent! But then, over and gone or recent, it does not really matter. It is all unspeakably rude!" Robin continued, "How have I been doing about that?"

"Very well. And these are Sei Shonagon's woes, not mine. I am not so easily offended."

"What strikes me as most arresting about a lover's face is the way I see it every day; always the same yet totally wonderful every time. Think of a painting. One soon tires of looking at it. An astoundingly beautiful screen can be placed right in front of ones eyes, yet one pays it no attention. By comparison, a lover's face is infinitely more arresting," Robin read again, "Yes, that is true."

"Let me," Laena took the book from him and read in her low, monotone voice that Robin had grown to find quite expressive, once he knew her better, "A good lover will behave as elegantly at dawn as at any other time. He drags himself out of bed, with a look of dismay on his face. The lady urges him on: 'Come, my friend, it's getting light. You don't want anyone to find you here.' He gives a deep sigh, as if to say that the night has not been nearly long enough and that it is agony to leave. Once up, he does not instantly pull on his trousers. Instead he comes close to the lady and whispers whatever was left unsaid during the night. Even when he is dressed, he still lingers, vaguely pretending to be fastening his sash."

Laena shut the book and leaned over Robin.

"The question is: at the end of this story, will you be a good lover, or a bad one?"

"What does she say of the bad lover?"

"I do not know. My lover did not translate it. Perhaps because I would recognize him in that category."

Robin laughed. "Ah, but I could not be so picky then about my lovers, I should not criticize them now."

"And what happens to this Sei Shonagon?"

"The lady she serves dies, and her life ends in tragedy, like all good stories."

"And has your life been a tragedy Laena?" Robin joked.

"Do not mock me. Do not think I am yours just because the King says I am." She sidled up next to him and laid her cheek on his chest. She continued, "Do not think you are special in my pillow book." She slipped out of her silk robe.

Robin's eyes widened in excitement.

"Do not think that you love me because truly you do not." She unlaced his pants and pulled them off slowly, teasing her fingers down his thighs, to his calves, to his feet, which she took in her lap. "And do not think I will love you."

"All right, all right. Can we do it already?"

Laena laughed, "Oh you silly boy. That was the agenda of the day, don't worry."

"We have all day?"

"If you think you can last that long in this heat."

***

"It's time," Hagger whispered loudly, standing in front of his men. Guy's eyes stared intensely at him from behind his turban—the only visible part of his face. They all drew out their scimitars, each blade scraping against its scabbard.

Guy stared at his sword's curved blade glinting faintly in the starlight. His face itched under the rough fabric around his face. They must be Saracens by appearance, and assassins by trade. He looked around at the other men around him; nine other men to surround him and take out the King's guard to allow him his goal: to kill the King himself. Guy thought to himself, "Thus ends the reign of King Richard the Lionheart." A smirk crossed his face, hidden beneath his turban.

Hagger whispered his final directions to Guy, "Take these men, kill the King and everyone in your path. I will be waiting here, at the rendezvous point." Hagger leaned in closer, "And if you want absolute success, make sure you eliminate the captain of the King's private guard. He's the best marksman to ever serve in this war."

Guy shuddered and nodded. He intended to do exactly that.

They ran for about a mile, the sand silencing their footfalls. Guy breathed heavily, seeing the large tents of the King's camp draw nearer and nearer. A lookout sat up from the sand, about to cry out for help.

_Swish._ Guy's curved blade sliced across the lookout's body, silencing him for good. They kept running, entering the ring of tents. Guy dodged arrows that sang past his ear, running forever towards the large white tent on the opposite side of the camp. The sounds of cries and blades crossing filled the night air.

Robin startled in his sleep. "Much!" he yelled, "The King!" Robin ran out of his tent, a fistful of arrows in his hand. He saw Saracens running all over. Robin didn't think, but drew the arrows from his bow, hitting every target before him.

Guy hacked anyone in his way, and then he saw him. Robin knelt into the ground, sending arrows expertly flying towards Guy's men, piercing their bodies with a dying scream. Guy smiled under his disguise and ran up behind Robin, his scimitar ready in his hand.

With one fluid motion, Guy grabbed Robin's shoulder from behind, forcing the blade into his left side; Guy drank in Robin's painful cry. He kept running, so close to the King's tent. At the entrance, he felt the breath of an arrow sing past his head. Guy turned to see Robin, bow in hand, collapse to the ground.

Entering the tent, Guy moved quickly to the King's sleeping form. He held his sword high, ready to plunge it into the King, ready to end his struggle for once and for all.

"Hope this makes you happy, Lady Gisborne," he thought just before he lowered his blade.

Guy sensed movement. Then his blade was hit by another. Guy returned the attack, moving as quickly as his robes would allow him. He felt his right sleeve rip away from his forearm. Guy backed away; he had never seen anyone fight so fiercely before. He couldn't seem to move fast enough; Robin was too quick. He felt the skin of his now visible tattoo split under Robin's blade. With one final heave, he threw Robin off him, running out of the tent.

Guy ran as fast as he could, past lifeless bodies and the sounds of metal meeting metal. He threw his head back in frustration as he ran. He failed to kill the King. And to kill Robin. But at least his wife had seen to another way to injure Robin beyond what he had done that night, an injury deeper than anything he could inflict.

***

Guy stood alone on the sand dune, the desert still covered in night's darkness. He looked into the sky. Hagger had punched his face in anger at his failure, but Guy didn't mind the dull pain in his cheekbone. He looked into the starry sky, remembering just how the sky looked from his and Catrine's hill back in Locksley. He thought of her, her naked body lying beneath him as the starlight shined across her face and through her hair. Even though the King wasn't dead, he'd still return to her, alive, and they'd raise their child, a son most likely, together. He breathed deeply at his thoughts.

Then, he thought he heard a woman's scream pierce the quiet desert air; the voice drilled into Guy's head. Guy spun around in disbelief, searching for the source of the scream. He recognized Catrine's voice calling out to him, her voice cracking in pain and suffering; "Guy!" her voice screamed over and over. "Catrine!" he called out to the desert wind.

Guy was overwhelmed with pain; he caved to the ground, groaning at his pain's acute throbbings. It was not physical pain, nor shameful pain from his failure. It was deep within him, within his soul. As though part of him was dying.

Guy remained there, curled in the sand, clutching at his heart.


	41. Chapter 41

**"**Are you all right Captain?" The King called to Robin over the din of the fighting outside the tent. Robin tried to catch his breath, the form of the King sitting up in bed swimming before his eyes.

"I don't think so. The man was a Saracen, he had a tattoo on his right arm, I slashed it with my sword."

The King nodded and raced to the entry of his tent and shouted orders to his guards nearby to find the tattooed Saracen man who had run away.

"I'm so sorry Your Highness," Robin said through gasps of breath. His hand clutched the wound on his side.

"Don't mention it Captain, you saved my life. Your men will catch him, be assured. Let's get you to a physician."

Robin struggled to his feet and as he straightened another gush of blood poured from his wound and he groaned, falling to his knees again. The King once again rushed to the entry of his tent and shouted that a physician be brought.

"Robin," Richard knelt beside Robin and grabbed his captain's shoulders, "Would you like me to send for Laena?" Robin nodded wearily; his jaw clenched against the sobs he thought would burst forth if he spoke a single word. "You will be all right," Richard murmured. Robin nodded. He was now beginning to shake and he could feel the blood still seeping slowly through his physician burst through the tent entrance with Laena right behind him.

"Laena," Robin breathed with relief, his teeth still clenched.

"I'm right here," she whispered, crouching beside him, pushing the King aside.

The physician, an aging Saracen man, knelt down as well. "Let me see son," he ordered, trying to pry Robin's hand away.

"Robin, let the doctor work," Laena admonished.

Robin removed his hand, covered in thick blood. The physician examined the wound a moment, "It's not very deep, and if it had touched his heart or lungs we would know. Better get him onto the bed." The doctor and Laena dragged Robin to his feet and lay him down on the King's bed. Robin groaned as he hit the soft downy surface.

"Laena," Robin pleaded.

"I'm here," she said, grabbing one of his hands in both of his own.

"I can't see you," Robin said frantically. Laena looked at the doctor in alarm.

"He'll be all right, he's just slipping away from the pain," the physician assured her and bent over Robin until he was only a few inches from his face."Young man, you will be fine. Now I am going to cleanse the wound and stitch it up. This will hurt but it will hurt less and heal better if you can stay still. Can you do that?" Robin nodded grimly and squeezed Laena's hand tighter.

"He has a lot of experience with pain," Laena added bitterly.

"So much the better," the doctor replied, his lips pursed in concentration as he dug through his bag. He brought out a bottle of iodine and unscrewed the lid.

As soon as Robin smelled it he panicked. He sat up and struggled to move himself backward. "No, no, no, get away from me!" He shouted.

The doctor frantically looked around for explanation, "You must hold him still!"

"I'm sorry sir, he was tortured with iodine, he can't help it," Laena apologized and imprisoned Robin's face between her hands. "Do you see me Robin? You see me here? He is not going to hurt you. But we must hurry, or else your wound will be impossible to stitch up."

Robin nodded, finding in her eyes a measure of strength and lay back down and the doctor began to work. He poured the iodine over the wound and Robin hissed in pain. Laena smoothed his hair back from his forehead.

"And now I'm going to stitch," the doctor warned, threading his needle. Robin nodded and clenched his jaw shut again, but after the first stitch he cried out in pain.

"Our Father," he whispered, as the doctor continued, "hallowed be thy name…"

"Thy kingdom come," Laena continued, "on Earth as it is in Heaven." They continued to pray through the stitches. With each movement of the needle the skin pulled taut and released and Robin thought he would go mad from the sensation. When the wound was closed Robin grazed a finger over the stitching and almost cried from the strangeness of it. Even through all his torture, he had never literally not been whole. The doctor poured more iodine over the stitches and wrapped a bandage around his chest. As soon as the doctor drew the King aside and the two men were outside the tent Robin allowed his tears to pour forth. Laena's eyes were still dry and focused, watching like a hawk for any sign of added distress or a new symptom.

"Laena the man got away."

"I know. We will catch him though."

"This is for nothing! For nothing!" Robin pounded his fist into the bed.

"I'm going to give you something for sleep. Just a moment." She rifled through the doctor's bag until she found the vial she wanted and gave Robin a small sip. "I will lie here beside you the entire time you are asleep so you don't need to worry."


	42. Chapter 42

Guy couldn't ride fast enough; his horse snorted heavily underneath him. He should have been worried about the horse's exhaustion, but he didn't care; he just wanted to get home. He could see the dim fires of Locksley just over the next hills.

Slowing his horse, Guy had to return with as much secrecy as when he left. Catrine would be pleased at him returning in just six weeks. She'd be so surprised; he could see it now, her smile lighting up her entire face as she held her belly, or even already cradling their child in her arms.

With next to no sound, Guy left his horse in the stables and walked into the manor. "She must be asleep by now," Guy smiled, walking up the stairs to the bedroom. He cracked open the bedroom door and looked into the bed with a smirk. The smirk fell away from his face.

She wasn't there. The pure white sheets were tucked neatly around the mattress; there was no cradle, and no signs of her having laid in this room tonight at all.

"She must be here somewhere, maybe downstairs by the fire," Guy thought as he closed the door. Walking back down the stairs, Guy searched everywhere, but Catrine was not to be found. Guy stood at the bottom of the steps, resting his hand on the rail deep in thought. "Where could she be?"

Then he heard a scuffle from upstairs coming from the other bedroom. "Of course," Guy thought, "after all, I was supposedly ill too. She'd be in the other room to avoid getting sick." Guy sprinted up the stairs, having had enough with surprise. He burst through the other door.

All that stood before him was a middle-aged man with a receding hairline. A half-eaten meal sat on the bed. But still no Catrine.

Guy had had enough. "Who are you?" he asked quickly, his voice filled with anger.

The man shuddered back, a surprised look on his face. "What do you mean? My name is Pitts, and I'm the doctor who's covering your alibi."

Guy looked at the empty bed. His mind raced. "Where is she?" Guy paused waiting for an answer. "Where is my wife?" his voice grew louder in rage.

Silence. Pitts shuddered under Guy's gaze; he had never seen anger like this before. His rage palpable in his eyes.

"Well... ugh… you see… giving birth is very hard without a midwife. And I have only ever executed a few. Her labor was taking far too long…"

Guy collapsed, sitting on the bed. Pitts' voice merely washed over his numb mind.

Pitts continued, "and when labor lasts that long, it's common for the mother to lose the baby. And then it's common for the woman to bleed when she gives birth to a stillborn…"

Guy looked up at the last word, mouthing the word, "stillborn."

"And I did everything to try to stop the bleeding, but nothing worked. I could do nothing to help her. I tried everything within my power to save her, Sir Guy…" Pitts' voice trailed off.

Guy still sat on the bed, his hands gripping into the clean white sheets. "So… Catrine is..." his voice barely audible. He couldn't bring himself to say the last word.

"I'm sorry, Sir Guy. Your wife is dead."

Guy sat in silence, his eyes closed. Suddenly his eyes flashed open, and his voice rose in anger.

"Pitts, you are never to talk about your services here. Ever. Is that understood?"

"Of course, Sir Guy," Pitts' voice shook out of fear.

Guy stood, and strode over to him, drawing his dagger. His voice grew cold and harsh. "And if anyone ever comes questioning you about what has happened here, you will inform my men immediately."

"Of c-course, S-sir Guy."

Guy pressed his blade to Pitts' throat, "You obviously didn't try hard enough to save my wife, so if I ever see your face again, I will kill you."

Guy leered as Pitts trembled under his blade, and with a sniff, Guy released the doctor, who staggered back, gathered his things, and left the room.

The second Guy heard the door close, he walked into his bedroom. He stared at the empty bed, so white and so abandoned. He needed to breathe, but he couldn't. Guy propped himself up on a table for support. Something sharp bit into his hand, and Guy drew it back. Blood dripped from his finger.

He looked down at what had cut him. Catrine's dagger, curved like a claw, dripped a single drop of Guy's blood from its point.

Picking up the dagger, tears began to well up in his eyes. Guy finally allowed himself to cry, sitting on the edge of the bed, her dagger clutched in his hand.


	43. Chapter 43

"Ah, feeling better, Gisborne? All healed from your… illness… I assume," the Sheriff said from the chair in his bedroom at Nottingham Castle. He sat close to the fire, the flames flickering through the night's darkness. Guy stood just within the doorway.

"So, how was your… expedition, Gisborne? Hmm?"

Guy was silent. The Sheriff turned to look at his lieutenant, mildly surprised to see his cheeks red and his eyes slightly puffy.

"Ah.. You've been to Locksley first."

"…Yes…" Guy's voice shook.

"Well, there's no need to worry about what happened overseas. Hagger sent a report ahead of you. The Black Knights will just have to try another approach."

Guy sniffed back his faint tears.

"Oh, stop your sniveling. You're failure wasn't that terrible."

"It has nothing to do with my failure in the Holy Land," Guy found his voice, yelling back at the Sheriff. His hand clutched at Catrine's dagger, which he now carried in his belt. "This is about my… my… wife."

"Your what, Gisborne?"

"My WIFE!" Guy pulled out the curved dagger's blade.

The Sheriff stared at the metal blade. "You had one of those, Gisborne? Oh, I'm terribly sorry."

"Of course I did," Guy growled through his teeth. "And she did nothing but serve you and me."

The Sheriff stood, grabbing Guy's arm and forcing him to lower his dagger. "Such a shame really. I mean, when tragedy strikes, there is nothing else to do but move on."

"How can I?" Guy whispered, fighting tears and standing still.

The Sheriff moved Guy to the chair, making him sit. He walked behind Guy, wrapping his arms around him and whispering into Guy's ear. "Well, as you can see, I've totally forgotten already. And besides, you don't need her for family. I've always thought of you as… something… like a son really. You and me, Gisborne. We are dearer than family." Guy shuddered as the Sheriff's face pressed closer and closer to his own. "Your home has always truly been here, working for me, and you know it. Otherwise you never would have left her. Just a point to ponder, Gisborne."

The Sheriff pulled away from Guy, smiling. He could almost see Guy's heart hardening at the thought. Guy proved himself an excellent fighter, and now all he had to do was transfer loyalty. Something easily done, the Sheriff thought.

He watched as Guy stood and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

***

Guy wandered out into the halls, aimlessly walking the corridors. He stopped out on one of the castle's balconies—the same one where he pictured life as the Lord and Lady Gisborne, where he'd plan to leave the Sheriff for good. He leaned out over the rail, watching the first traces of dawn appear in the sky. Now, he could never have that life.

Catrine was gone. And it was all his fault. He should never have left her so close to giving birth. If he had been there, she would have fought harder, he thought. Guy clutched at his heart, remembering the pain and the piercing scream in the desert. He might as well have stabbed her to death by leaving. Guy felt the tears coming, resting his head in his folded arms on the rail.

He looked up at the last few stars in the sky. "Why?" he asked her. "Why didn't you fight? Why didn't you wait?" his voice barely above a whisper. He felt his anger rising. He had to leave for his mission, he thought. She wanted him to, forced him to. He worked for the Sheriff because of _her_. No. It was her fault. And now she left him, never to return. He clenched his head in his hands.

And then he felt his own fingers in his hair, just as she used to touch him.

He shuddered, suppressing a sob.

He would be the Sheriff's man, out of anger against her memory and just in order to maintain her memory. He straightened up, and grabbed the hilt of his sword, staring as the last star disappeared on the horizon.


	44. Chapter 44

"Ah, Gisborne!" The Sheriff ran up to Guy standing on the steps to the courtyard of Nottingham Castle. Guy turned around. "I have news for you. It regards your recent… illness. Come to my quarters… hmm?" The Sheriff sprinted away.

Guy turned around, having already finished drilling his troops for the day. He could feel his muscles tighten at the Sheriff's request as he followed him into the castle.

Entering the Sheriff's quarters, Guy stood before the Sheriff's desk, the Sheriff sitting behind, throwing papers in all directions.

"Now," he said, holding a single piece of parchment, "Your… nearly fatal wound to a certain Robin of Locksley… this report says… has allowed the King to send Robin home, if he chooses to accept."

Guy's face hardened in fury.

"Now, don't get your temper up. There's more. Robin has taken a fever and infection, and is close to death. So good work, Gisborne. Your hatred for Robin has come in handy, I suppose." The Sheriff flung the report to the floor with the other papers, resting his on the arms of his chair.

"If Robin of Locksley ever returns, he will pay for his survival. I will see to that." Guy closed his eyes, remembering the attack at Acre vividly. Then he saw Catrine dying in her bed at the same moment, the two images collided in his memory.

The Sheriff clapped his hands, startling Guy from his dark thoughts.

"And you were getting so much better about lapsing into your moodiness. I even brought you a surprise as a reward."

Guy looked confused, "A surprise, Sheriff? What do you mean?"

The Sheriff stretched his legs out over his desk. "Well, it has now been two weeks since you've returned to your… present… situation. And what with all your voyaging, and attacking and current loneliness…"

"Sheriff…" Guy's voice lowered to only a threatening whisper.

"You need a new way to forget yourself. I just thought you could use some… company." The Sheriff smiled as he watched Guy squirm.

"No. Thank you." Guy clutched at his dagger.

"Oh, but I insist." The Sheriff stood, walking over to Guy and wrapping one arm behind him, leading him out the door and down the corridors. "You wouldn't turn down a gift from your Sheriff, now would you?"

"I can't, Sheriff. Don't waste your kindness on me."

"It's more selfishness, really. I can't have a lieutenant running my operations when he's… distracted… now can I? How long has it been, Guy?"

Guy was silent. His thoughts betrayed himself. The Sheriff guessed the memories running through his head.

"See. Indulge yourself, Gisborne. It will help you forget, help you… channel your passions… in a new direction." They stood outside a bedroom door.

"This is not kindness, Sheriff…" Guy tensed and tried to turn away.

The Sheriff chuckled, "I never said it was." He opened the door. "Now, allow me to introduce you to Alice, she will… distract you… for a while. Enjoy, Gizzy." The Sheriff pushed Guy in the room and closed the door.

Guy blinked. This was too far, even for the Sheriff, he thought. It was too soon. Memories of her touched every moment of his day with a bitter pain in his heart. And this wouldn't help him forget anything. Guy felt movement from the bed.

He looked up and saw a very beautiful woman, wearing very, very little. Her bright blonde hair hung far past her breasts, and her blue eyes shined at him with a sense of confidence in her trade.

"You, handsome, must be Sir Guy," her voice was too high, piercing Guy's ears. He winced. He nodded, but didn't move from his spot in front of the door.

"Oh come on now," her voice cracking in a high-pitched whine. "If you won't move yourself, then I will just have to move you." She walked closer to him. His steel-grey eyes never left her own.

Guy sniffed in contempt as she drew even closer. Her hands reached up to his face, drawing down his neck and began quickly unbuckling his jacket. "Sir Guy, it is far to hot to wear leather in here. Your jacket will just have to go." Finished with the jacket, Alice moved to his tunic.

"Not even a word of pleasure or enticement? You will be a tough customer, I think," Alice said as she pulled off his tunic.

Guy was numb, hungry for her touch, but numb nonetheless. He looked into her face. She smiled and began fingering the defined muscles of his chest. He felt her touching lower and lower.

"You still remain silent, Sir Guy? Unmoved?" Her hand reached for his cock, feeling his lack of excitement.

She pouted.

And then began rubbing his thighs and crotch harder.

Guy's eyes twitched once. And in that one second, Alice saw them grow cold, icy and hard.

He said nothing, but moved in to kiss her. His hungry lips and tongue almost suffocating her. He explored every inch of her mouth, biting into her lips.

Alice felt his erection growing through his pants, and she began untying his laces.

At her slightest touch, Guy pulled away, a leer on his face. He grabbed her shoulders tightly, and Alice cried out in pain. With one strong push, Guy spun Alice around, throwing her to the bed face down.

He couldn't stop himself. With that pout, something seemed to snap in his memory. He unlaced his pants as Alice supported herself for a split second on the mattress on all fours, trying to get up.

"Stay there," Guy commanded, his voice sounding strange to even himself. She did just that. Guy grabbed her hips, entering her from behind, just as she was. She cried out for a second in pain.

Guy's mind took over, and he closed his eyes. It felt almost the same to Guy. As he thrusted, he could feel himself back in time, almost willing himself to be with Catrine in memory one last time. He could almost see her face shining in the moonlight, her hair spread around her in the grass and her deep brown eyes smiling with her love.

He thrusted deeply and quickly, ignoring all of the little squeals and moans he heard. Instead, all his mind heard were soft, low moans from the past and his name softly murmured. His hands gripped her hips harder as he felt his muscles tighten in pleasure. He came with a groan, "Catrine…" he unbiddenly whispered.

He stopped and stepped away from her, retightening his pants. He opened his eyes. He was half shocked to see her blue eyes and straw-colored hair. "Alice," she said not even breathless. "My name is Alice."

And then she pouted again.

Guy's mind blanked, filled with rage at this woman. He lost all control, pulling out Catrine's curved dagger. Before Alice could even move or cry out, Guy pushed her on her back to the bed, stabbing into her stomach over and over again with loud and furious grunts. Alice cried out in pain and fear. But soon her struggles became no more than spasms. Then she lay lifeless on the bed, the sheets and her shift soaked through with blood.

The door opened, and the Sheriff walked in to see what remained of his surprise: a dead girl and Guy standing shirtless over her body, covered in blood.

"_Tut, tut, tut_ Gisborne. I can't give you presents if you insist on killing them. Prostitutes aren't disposable, you know. In fact, they're rather expensive."

The Sheriff watched as Guy looked at his bloodied dagger, replacing it in his belt. His hands shook as he turned to face the Sheriff.

"I'm… sorry… but… she wasn't…"

"Your wife, Gisborne? How could she be when your wife is dead?" The Sheriff gave half a smile. "Now, I won't have this happen again, you understand. My lieutenant can't go around hunting whores for sport."

Guy shook himself, and then he began pulling on his tunic. "Of course, Sheriff." His voice had steadied itself. "I'll be more careful next time."

The Sheriff met Guy's look; he noticed something harder, even unforgiving about them. "Perfect," the Sheriff thought.

Guy moved to walk away, but the Sheriff grabbed his arm, meeting Guy's cold stare. "Life is a cruel mistress, Gisborne, though apparently not as cruel as you are to your own mistresses."

Guy sniffed, and then smirked as he walked away.


	45. Chapter 45

Already the winds carried autumn's cool sting through the courtyard of Nottingham Castle. The creaking of taught rope echoed over the stones; two bodies swung from the gallows in the breeze, their heads covered in canvas bags.

Guy stood atop the stairs, his arms crossed over his chest, examining the crowd of peasants and nobles alike. The Sheriff, standing before him, addressed the crowd, folding up a large piece of parchment—their execution order.

"Let this be a lesson to you all. This," the Sheriff said, pointing at the lifeless bodies dangling from the gallows with the parchment, "this is what happens to those who oppose… me." The Sheriff turned and walked up the stairs. "Now, where is my lunch? I'm positively famished, Gisborne."

"The servants will bring your meal to your quarters, Sheriff," Guy answered as he followed the Sheriff into the castle.

Entering the Sheriff's quarters, Guy pushed birdcages out of his way to walk to the Sheriff's desk. "Why this new obsession?" Guy thought as the birds chirped and flew against their cage bars. Guy stood and crossed his arms again as the Sheriff collapsed to his desk chair, spreading his legs out and stretching his arms above his head.

"Ahhh, Gisborne. There is nothing quite like a good hanging followed by a good meal." The door opened opposite, and two servant girls entered carrying trays of food.

Guy turned, watching the women place the trays on the desk before him. He smirked at one of them—a girl he hadn't seen in the castle before. Her hair was a dark blonde color, the exact shade that stirred Guy's memory. He gently caught her arm as she followed the other girl to leave.

"What's your name, girl?"

"Annie," she answered, half startled and half intrigued. She looked into his handsome face; his rugged complexion and his cool grey eyes unsettled her, but excitingly unsettling, stirring a desire for her to know him better.

He let her go. "I want you to retrieve these trays once we're through. Only you."

"Yes, my lord." Annie curtsied and walked out of the room, throwing a glance at Guy before she closed the door.

Guy smirked as pulled up a chair to the Sheriff's desk.

"You've become so subtle in your wooing, Gisborne," the Sheriff taunted as he began cutting into a piece of meat.

"I never was very subtle, my lord Sheriff," Guy began pouring himself a glass of wine. "The only reason I ended up marrying Catrine was..."

"Stop, Gisborne. I won't have you talking about her ever again." The Sheriff stiffened in his chair, staring at Guy. He hated to hear about her anymore. From a logical standpoint, he had lost one of his best "men," not to mention now he had a sulking, brooding lieutenant. His emotions often clouded his reason, Guy's success since his mission to the Holy Land had drastically decreased. And besides, the Sheriff had to admit to missing her deadly feminine charm in every mission she undertook. But now it had been a month, and Guy's loyalties were solidified in his favor.

"I will never hear her name uttered again, understand Gisborne?" the Sheriff still staring at Guy.

"Yes, Sheriff."

"Good," the Sheriff said, his mouth filled with food. He swallowed, "Oh, and no repeats of the Alice incident. I can't have you not playing nicely with the castle's own staff."

Guy sniffed. "Of course, Sheriff," he smirked over his glass of wine.

***

Guy stepped out into the hall, closing the bedroom door behind him. He was late for the Council of Nobles, and the Sheriff would need him there. Now.

The bedroom door opened behind him, and Annie wrapped her arms around him, kissing his cheek.

Guy pushed her away, "I'm late." He walked away, hearing her sigh as he left. Guy ran quickly through the halls, running way also from what he just did. "Her hair," Guy thought. "She has her hair." For the past two months now, Annie's hair had been his most constant reminder of Catrine. Just seeing Annie's hair so close to him was almost like seeing her once more. Just her hair though. Not Annie herself. He would never forget Catrine. He could never forget.

He slowed to a walk in the hall outside the Great Hall, hearing the Sheriff already speaking behind the oaken doors. The doors to the castle opened as Sir Edward walked in; Marian followed behind.

Guy stood out of breath, his chest heaving after having run, waiting for them to enter the hall. Sir Edward entered. But Marian paused in front of him, turning towards him. "Sir Guy, I'm sorry to hear about your wife. I know what it's like to lose someone dear," she whispered, averting her gaze.

Guy sniffed and stiffened, "Save your apologies." And then he walked into the hall in front of her, moving to stand behind the Sheriff.

The Sheriff ignored the movement, still addressing the increasing price of flour in Nottingham. Guy's breath steadied as he stood there; he looked at the nobles. And paused on Marian. No one had even offered their sympathy for Catrine's death, except her. The one woman his wife hated most, above everything else. Guy looked intently at this woman. He never fully understood her hatred for Marian, other than her challenges to their claim to the Locksley estate. And her claim to power as Robin's lover. But Catrine's hatred had been beyond just those reasons—a sort of personal battle against her. But that was Catrine's battle, not his own, he thought.

Guy pictured these women as they were months ago, in Locksley. Catrine's dark-blonde hair and furious brown eyes looked into his soul; but Marian, her chestnut hair and green eyes, never showed her true emotion, hiding her gaze and her thoughts. She was so different from everything Catrine ever was. And yet, she was powerful and confident too.

Guy smiled as he thought. Why not be friends with Marian? After all, she did offer condolences after everything that he and his wife had put her through. "Catrine would kill me if she knew," Guy laughed darkly to himself. "But she's dead. She abandoned me, so what does it matter now?"

***

Guy collapsed on his bed in Locksley Manor that night and fell into a deep yet troubled sleep.

_Guy stood on the hill just outside of Locksley, staring into the sky. He looked in front of him, seeing a woman's bare back to him. Her dark-blonde hair draped over her shoulders. He walked over to her and she turned. _

_It was Catrine. She smiled at him, her brown eyes sparkling in her joy. He could smell her skin as he moved in to kiss her. He felt her lips on his, her familiar taste on his tongue. Her fingers stroked his back, his neck and finally his hair; he shuddered as he felt the touch he had so desperately missed. _

_Pulling away from their kiss, Guy opened his eyes, recognizing the front of Locksley Manor. His reigns in his hands. The day he left her. He heard himself speak, "Don't worry, I'll be back in just over a month. And then our lives will just be you, me, and the baby. Nothing will come between us. I promise you." _

_She smiled and began to laugh. "No, Guy. You aren't the one leaving. I am."_

_She disappeared. And Guy heard screaming, Catrine called his name in pain from so far away. He tried to find her, to save her, but his feet were trapped by sand. _

"No! Catrine!" Guy yelled as he sat straight up in bed, his body covered in a cold sweat. He could still hear her screams in his head, and feel her taste on his tongue. Guy gripped the pillow in anguish. "How could you leave me?" he screamed, turning himself face down into the same mattress where she had died. He could almost feel her. Almost see her. But his anger shook his body in every manner. She did this to him; she trapped him with the Sheriff and with the kitchen maids and with Marian. He couldn't return to the past, but his past remained to torment him. He smiled as he remembered just how much she used to like to make her suffer—a twisted smile on her face. That was how she was looking at him right now, he thought.

Then he remembered how every fight, every argument, every suffering between them always ended the same: lying together wherever they were.

His smile faded. "Not anymore. Not ever again." Guy sniffed back the beginnings of tears, turned over in bed, and tried to go back to sleep.


	46. Chapter 46

_Back to Robin after his injury in the Holy Land._

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"Robin you are not well enough!" Laena shouted at him, pushing him down onto the bed again.

"Laena it is my fault he escaped the first time. I will be the one to bring him down."

"Please see sense, you will catch a fever and you could die. It has been two days and you are not as healed as I hoped."

"I have to do this. I have to end this."

"What is 'this'? So a man attacked the King, you saved the King's life. You will get his commendation and then go home, you have everything you could want!"

"I'm not going home Laena. This is where I belong. Fighting, this is what I do. And that's what I'm going to do now."

"Fine, see how far you get." Robin finished putting on his armor and grabbed his sword and strode to the door of his tent. Much was walking in and Robin ordered him, "We're going after the Saracens who made the attempt two days ago, one of our scouts found a lead."

"Master you're not well. I can see you're in pain and your eyes look all glossy. He has a fever doesn't he, Laena?"

Laena shrugged, "He knows what he's doing. You try to stop him."

"Well then master I'm not going with you," Much crossed his arms over his chest, blocking the way.

"Stand aside, Much."

"I won't. I'm not having you dying on me and…and…I'll not have it!"

"Much, I am ordering you to stand aside."

"You may be my master but the King has said you are discharged, you are free to go home. And I have packed our bags and we are ready to go as soon as you are better."

"We're not going home."

"Yes we are!"

"No, we're not."

Much huffed and looked away. Robin pushed past him. Much grumbled, "If you die they'll all blame me you know."

***

After only a half hour of riding in the baking sun with his guard Robin couldn't breathe in his armor. He stopped to remove his armor and as he descended from his horse he thought he saw the ground rushing towards him much too fast. He leaned onto the flank of his horse and after removing his armor felt at his side and fingered thick blood and puss oozing out of his wound, through his shirt. He stared at his fingers in disbelief and with a rushing in his ears, collapsed into the sand. Much jumped from his horse and rushed to his side, looking in horror at Robin's eyes rolling back in his head and the sweat sheen on his face. Much shouted at the guards to halt, to take Robin back to camp. The men complained at first and then at the sight of their captain rushed to help him and they got back to camp within a few minutes.

Much began yelling for Laena as soon as he saw the first tent of their camp in Acre. It seemed forever before Laena was running towards them, sand flying up behind her. "What's happened?" She asked breathless, bracing her hands on her knees.

"What do you think's happened?" Much demanded, shoving Robin at her. She held out her arms and he slumped down onto her.

"He's out, help me Much," she ordered, and they dragged him back to his tent. "I'll go get the doctor. Much, try to get him conscious again and then keep him that way. And get his clothes off, wash away as much blood and puss as you can. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Much looked desperately after her, terrified to be alone with the injured man, terrified to have his life in his hands. Robin groaned and his eyes fluttered. "Master, Robin, can you hear me?"

"Where am I?"

"You're back home. You fell on the road."

"I have to go Much, help me up. I've got to get back to the men. I've got to lead them!"

"Master look at you!"

Robin lifted his head an inch and then collapsed back flat onto the bed again, "I can't move Much. Why can't I move?"

"I don't know Master, I don't know. I think your wound has re-opened."

"I can feel it."

"Laena will be right back with the physician and then you'll be fine."

"I can't feel my legs."

Much swallowed and sat down next to his friend, "I have to get your shirt off. I think it will hurt but it will be better if you can help me." Robin nodded and Much peeled his shirt off, as Robin gritted his teeth as it pulled away from his distended belly and chest. Much gasped as he saw how taut the skin was.

"It's bad isn't it?" Robin asked, "Tell me the truth, Much."

"It…it doesn't look good. But I'm not a doctor, I'm sure the doctor will…"

At that moment the old Saracen doctor and Laena jogged into the tent. The doctor shoved Much aside, "Let me see. Ah…"

"Can you fix it?" Much asked anxiously.

The doctor's face was grave. "I think so. I will do what I can." He dug a jar out of his bag, opened it and extracted three wriggling leeches and laid them on Robin, encircling the wound.

"He's bleeding him…he's bleeding him! It never ends well when they bleed them," Much cried.

"Much, I'll be fine," Robin whispered. His head was still swimming but thankfully the blinding pain was giving way to numbness and paralysis creeping up his body. He thought that once the paralysis reached his neck, and then his face, and then his mind he would drift away and never wake up again so he struggled against it, struggled to keep his hold on the present.

The doctor stood, "We'll let the leeches do their work for an hour, and try to cool him down as much as possible to reduce the fever. I'll be back in an hour. If there's any change, let me know. The skin is too inflamed to re-stitch now, it would just fall apart."

Much gagged and quickly turned away from the sight of the leeches and the thought of the skin disintegrating.

As soon as the doctor left Laena burst into action, "Much, get a goatskin and fill it with water, get two of the guards to help you. I'm going to try to draw the fever away from his head." Much nodded and bolted. Robin watched Laena yank his boots off and begin rubbing his feet. "You'll feel better when we can get you cooled down," Laena reassured him, "And once you're stitched up a second time you'll be fine you stupid, stubborn man."

"Laena," Robin whispered. The reality of his tent quickly slipped away from him into a blur. He jumped as he felt a cat jump onto his bed and brush his arm and face, and flinched as its tail flicked him. He glanced and saw nothing there. He could hear his father shouting to saddle his horse, his long-forgotten voice yelling he had a long ride to London. And then his chest split open with pain again and he could hardly keep his eyes open they burned with such heat. "Laena, where's Marian?"

Laena's cheek muscle twitched but she did not pause in chafing at his feet, "She's not here right now. She's gone with Much to get you water."

"When my father gets back from London tell him I'm sorry I couldn't stop the Saracens. If it weren't for this stupid wound…why am I so weak?"

Laena worriedly glanced from the flap of the tent, to Robin's wound, to his sweaty face and glassy eyes in rotation. After a few such rotations she noticed that Robin had gone pale and his face was ashen instead of sweaty. And when she looked at the wound, the skin edges were no longer taught, they had hardened and twisted away from the opening into his insides. The red and purple streaks tracing over his chest from the wound were not diminishing from the leashes. At that moment Robin's body began to shiver and jolt.

Robin felt rage at his useless body, and wanted to pound his fist into the bed, or piece together his wound himself but he couldn't move. And he could not remember who he was or where he was. He felt himself begin to shake from the impossible cold that now surrounded him, and in a cloud of mist he thought he saw Laena stand up and sprint from the tent. He was now alone, alone with his terrifying mind that was not his own, and his body that was out of his control. With each violent shudder that ran through him another whiplash of pain came from his side, and the sound of his teeth clashing together caused him to utter his first scream.

And with the scream, he came back to reality. There was Laena, the Saracen doctor, and Much, standing at the side of the bed.

"You see why I ran now?" Laena demanded.

"Get those disgusting creatures off him, look at him!" Much cried, his hands on his hips, beginning to pace at the end of the bed.

"I'm all right Much," Robin tried to choke out through his dry throat and mouth.

"Oh thank God, he's conscious," Laena said.

The physician removed the leeches and pressed to stop the bleeding. Then he dug out a leather case and began to lay out various knives on a piece of leather on the barrel-table. The doctor selected a knife and brought it towards Robin's side.

"What are you doing to me?" He cried, trying to move away from the sharp blade in the physician's weathered hands.

"The skin has sealed itself, I cannot sew it back, and it will not join. So I have to cut it anew."

"No, I beg you! I can't! Please! Please!"

"It is the only way, and you will have to be still."

"I can't. I have to go kill the assassin. I cannot lay here. I will die in this bed."

The doctor seized the red-streaked skin of Robin's wound and sawed at the edges of the flesh. Robin cried out and tried to twist away. "Hold him down," the doctor shouted at Laena.

She crawled on top of the bed and sat on top of Robin, holding him down, "Robin you must pray with me. We will say the Our Father."

"Our Father," she prompted. "hallowed be thy name…" Robin stuttered and screamed as the doctor sawed at the other side of the wound.

"Thy kingdom come; thy will be done," Much continued, watching transfixed in horror. The doctor set down the bloody knife and the dead pieces of blackened flesh and grabbed his needle and thread and began to sew. The first stitches two days earlier had been maddeningly irritating, these were total and complete agony on the sliced skin. Sliced skin like a piece of meat, Robin thought. I will be meat tomorrow, he thought with terror. When the doctor had finished and put away his tools Robin collapsed heavily again on the bed and shut his eyes abandoning reality for sleep. After a few moments Laena stood up and with the removal of her weight Robin woke.

"Doctor?" Robin heard Laena murmur to the doctor who stood silhouetted in the dying light of sunset in the tent flap opening.

"The infection is too great. He may only have until the morning." Robin shut his eyes, wanting to block out their words, wanting to prove them wrong, and yet knowing in his heart that in all of his pain it had never been like this.

"What can I do for him?" He heard Laena ask. As always, his friend's voice was calm and emotionless, but he could see that her hands were shaking.

"If the fever breaks, he has a chance. So continue bathing him with water. But do not be too hopeful." The doctor left the doorway only to be replaced by a tall armored man who barged into the tent.

"Who are you?" Laena demanded.

The man was out of breath but stammered, "A letter for Sir Robin of Locksley, Captain of the King's Private Guard."

"Yes that's him, but he's very ill, can it wait?"

The man shook his head, still gasping for air, "I was ordered to deliver it personally and watch him read it."

"He's asleep right now you will either have to wait here or I can give it to him."

"Let me see," Robin whispered, trying to lift his head and failing. Laena grabbed the letter from the man's hand and gave it to Robin. His hands could not seem to close around the letter; his body was shutting down too quickly.

"Here," Laena opened it and handed him the sheet of paper. Through the back of the parchment she would see it was but a few lines, and looked like an official missive of some kind. Robin stared at the letter in horror, "Marian." He had not spoken her name in two years and with the three familiar and so well-loved syllables there rushed a torrent of emotion he could not identify or understand, but could only be completely overwhelmed by.

_Robin_

_ I hope you are pleased to know that I have followed your orders. I have moved on. And I am pursued by many other, wealthier men; men who don't abandon me for their own selfish glory. I am happy, the happiest I have ever been in my life. Without you._

_ Marian_

He lost all hold of reality and was plunged into darkness. A thick darkness in which he could not fully open his eyes no matter how hard he tried. And then he felt her hand caress up his back and wrap around his shoulder. He looked down and he could not see but felt her face was much nearer to his than he expected as they stood side by side, and that the lips that pressed his were not hers, but a former hers, a hers from long ago. And suddenly he was plunged into brightness so extreme he could now not open his eyes because of the thinness of the air. But there she still was, glowing as white as a dove, as white as the sun, and blinding him. He fell to his knees and in her shadow he found he could peek into the light and looked down to the ground he stood on. And there were her bare feet, her beautiful bare feet with the familiar freckle right before the smallest toe on her left foot, a freckle he had seen when there was not even a beard on his face. He fell to her feet and pressed his face to them and found them cool and soothing, for he found he was burning, on fire. And too soon he was yanked back into a misery of heat and darkness.

Now he could open his eyes and then discovered he could not close them, the horror was too great. "Marian," Robin cried, looking frantically. "Marian where are you? I need you."

"I wish she was here Robin," Laena whispered, sitting across from him at the barrel-table.

"Marian I don't think I'm going to be all right this time."

Laena felt tears slip down her cheeks and she hastily brushed them away.

"It's possible…" she found she couldn't continue.

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want," Robin recited, and painfully stretched out a hand to Laena. She took it in both of hers and knelt down beside the bed.

"He maketh me to lie down in green pastures."

"He leadeth me beside still waters, he restoreth my soul." Robin's eyes focused and lucidity returned, "Laena I'm so sorry."

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil: for thou art with me," Laena stubbornly continued.

"I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever," Robin breathed. And another violent shiver took him and he coughed a sputtering cough that terrified Laena, for she had heard it a hundred times, a death rattle in a man who has resigned himself and does not try to fight it. She had never thought to hear that resignation or acceptance from this Robin of Locksley. Robin felt the heat wash over him again and the delirium began anew. There she was, washing her clothes in the sunlight, the water droplet flying through the air like tiny diamonds. There was her hand in his, his mother's ring on her finger. And then she stood in a dark, cold kitchen in winter. Her face was red and her shoulder blades stuck out like wings in her painfully thin back. One of her arms dropped to her side and he saw the ring hit the ground and bounce. And then she collapsed in a heap, her head lolling from side to side. "Marian!" He screamed. Then she was gone, and he stood alone before their tree. He ran his hands all over the trunk but could not find their initials anywhere. "Marian." And she laughed. She laughed her beautiful laugh from behind him. "This is the wrong tree Robin! I would have thought you would take better care of the things you make me," she teased. She laughed again and jokingly ran from him a few steps, then turned and smiled again, ran another few paces and finally turned and ran from him in earnest. "Why aren't you chasing me Robin?"

Robin looked down at this feet and saw they were turning to sand. The cat returned and leapt at his face and he sat up, gasping for air. "I saw, I saw…" he tried to say.

"What did you see?" Much's voice called.

"Marian." He swallowed. "Marian."

"Was the letter from her, Master?"

"Marian," he begged. "Robin, it's Laena."

"Leave me alone."

"Robin…"

"I said," he repeated in dead calm, "leave me." He closed his eyes as another icy wind rattled through his body and saw their favorite tree up ahead, around the next glen. He broke into a run, the cool England morning rushing into his lungs. And there she was with her back to him, her long dark hair gleaming reddish in the dawn. She turned to face him with the most radiant smile on her face. "Welcome home, Robin."

Robin opened his eyes to the morning light filtering through the thick canvas of the tent. His head pulsed with dehydration, and every particle of his body ached, and his side still burned. But it was morning.

"Master!" Much jumped out of his chair with jubilation and sat on the bed beside Robin. He groaned as the impact shook him and caused a wave of pain. "Master, I was so frightened. I thought you were…I thought…"

"So did I, my friend."

"Your fever's gone. This means you're going to be all right. Thank you God!" Much shouted.

At Much's shout Laena crept into the tent. Why had she left? Robin wondered.

"Can't you see, he's much better?" Much asked gleefully, stepping aside so that Laena could examine him.

She placed a hand to his forehead, and to his neck, and examined his wound, and took his pulse. "He is. I'll go get the physician." She left the tent as quickly as she could.

"Much, as soon as I'm better we're going home."

"Master I thought you said we were staying…"

"I've changed my mind. We're going home."

"Laena said you received a letter, is this about…"

"Here," Robin shoved the letter happily at Much; then winced as the movement caused him more pain. Much read the few lines quickly and put the letter down angrily, "Have you read this Master?"

"Yes, I have," Robin laughed.

"Obviously you haven't, or else you wouldn't be smiling like that!"

"Much this doesn't even sound like her. This isn't Marian!"

"Yes it is, Robin. Do you remember the letter you sent her?"

"Yes."

"You told her to go off and find someone else and now she has."

"Since when has Marian ever done what I've told her to? Damn, the one time she listens to me, it's about this."

"You told her you didn't love her, what was she supposed to do?"

"I _never _said I didn't love her anymore."

"Well she's forgotten you now, I hope you're happy."

"No, this simply will not do." Robin tapped the letter. "So we are going home."

"But…"

"No buts, Much. I'm hungry, and I want to go home."\

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**Author's Note: **_thus ends our prologue, and the story continues right into Season 1 Episode 1. We hope we've provided a satisfying explanation of our heroes :)_


	47. Another Year

_Author's note:_

**One year later, and we're still receiving favorites and reviews! Thanks to everyone who puts in the time to journey through our prologue with us. There are many other stories to follow here...**

**Peruse at your pleasure... **


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